Once More to Infinity
by Jocson
Summary: We are humans. We are a naive species who want nothing more than to improve our station. We bickered among ourselves, fought and bled, warred and murdered in the ignorance of a greater existence and calling out there. As we stand here, on the eve of the Covenant annihilation of our species, let us not forget who we are. In this existence or the next, humanity shall be remembered.
1. Not with a Whimper, with a Bang

" _You need not fight no longer."_

It was the painful truth; hard as it was to accept it, to embrace it, to understand it, Earth would fall.

As I kneel here, spirit shattered like many pieces of Mjolnir now lying decadent on silky floor of the _Infinity,_ I look back on where it all went wrong. We had fired Halo as planned, bringing about the destruction of the Flood. We fled the Ark, its surface quickly being torn asunder from the premature firing, as we rushed back to Earth; our Earth.

We did not expec for the many remnants of the Covenant to recoup their losses so quickly. We did not expect for the Shangheili, who stayed their feet and fought alongside us to callously run away, to defend whatever they could hold on to against the oncoming hordes of those who remained loyal to their cause.

In three weeks' time, they came back. Came back to bring about the ruination of Earth's treasured sons and daughters; they came back to finish what they started all those many decades ago.

I bled and fought for months; begging amidst the cloud of doubt festering inside my Spartan mind for aid to come. We fought with whatever we could, wasting away in on the soil with which our forefathers gave birth to mankind. They came, slaughtering man, woman, and child.

No help came.

And with this, on a desperate gamble, failed amidst the dying echoes of our crumbling empire, I have finally come to accept that we had fallen.

On an experimental and unfinished ship, we loaded what survivors we could. We aimed everything we had in the middle of a sea of ships, hoping against all odds that a small hole through which our ship could navigate through would come into existence. We bet everything we had left on the success of this one mission.

And we failed.

Disabled and broken, we lay in the middle of their fleet, preparing ourselves for the inevitable. Wave after wave of them came; boarding with their savage might as they continued with renewed vigor in their extermination. We were to be defeated, and the smell of a victory despite all they have lost was too great a cry for the loyalists.

I fought; _we_ fought. The line separating man from machine, Spartan from all the rest: it all blurred itself out in the cacophony and staccato of a dying species. We were one. We were all human.

But being human was simply not enough.

Despite our best efforts, they had broken through.

With pierced hearts, the best of us could not hold back the tide.

We had fought on the beaches, in the ships, in the cities and in the streets; we had fought in the jungles, in the constructs of great design, in the air, in the high seas and in the great void of space.

But humanity's end was nigh, and the final breath and battle would be in this ship. _Infinity._ With a distaste not normally displayed by Spartans, I accepted our fate. Our species was not to be bound to this existence; but we would always be remembered. We would be regarded as those that stood against all odds, refusing to surrender to an enemy hell bent on destroying them. In this life or the next, the word _human_ would be synonymous to a victory that forever eludes one's self, but would always be an individual's worthy pursuit.

We would be remembered.

Human will forever exist in infinity.

And so I stood, shaking off the last pieces of my trusty armor; helm removed, and knees shaking despite the augmentations that have pierced more than just my body, but so too my soul, I stood.

My companion was silent, for she had accepted what was staring her in the eye. No amount of intelligence could refute the simple fact that our species was dead.

But I refuse to sit here in defeat any longer. I refuse to let a whimper be the end of my beloved UNSC, of my beloved UEG, of my beloved _Humanity._ I refuse, even as I looked out into the milky vastness of space, even as I looked at the many ships turning their predatory gaze to us, priming and aiming the many weapons that dotted their ships.

I refuse.

We had fought for so long against them. Not from tyranny, oppression or persecution…but from annihilation. We have fought for our right to live. To exist.

We would not win today. There shall be no victory, nor day, with which we would all look back to as the day that humanity declared in one voice that they had won.

Today shall be the day, for it would be written forever in the blood of 39 billion humans, forever extinguished from this universe that as one voice, one body, one mind and one soul, humanity declared that it would not go quietly into the night.

I take one last look back at the small view port, searing into my mind the image of a burning Earth.

With a single, gloved hand, I pressed dials; calibrated everything I could to get this right.

My companion finally spoke to guide me, and I would forever remember the bond between man and machine; of flesh and code.

Humanity would not end in a whimper; it would end with a bang.

With one final breath, with one final glace, I pressed the ignition.

39 billion humans would forever be lost, and we would not be coming back.

39 billion souls.

The Infinity was an experimental ship; it was to be humanity's final Ark. Though it had failed at its primary mission, it would be humanity's ship to the after-life.

From the few dozen souls still alive on Earth, and of the millions of loyalist Covenant in their ships, they watched either in defeat or victory, as the ship of 5-kilometers whirred to life one last time. It fired everything it had, which was mostly shrugged off by the vastly superior opposing fleet.

They watched, as an inky black hole emanated from the ship's nose, quickly growing in size and strength, engulfing the tiny human ship and all of those belonging to the Covenant surrounding it.

Late did they realize their demise.

And fail they did to act upon it.

The rupture grew and grew, faster than anyone could have predicted, faster than anyone could have escaped. The sky of Earth was shadowed over by this view, as more than half of the Covenant's fleet was caught in the sphere.

And like a bubble, the sphere burst.

A bang.


	2. Prometheus

"Space…the final frontier."

"Quoting movies again, Lieutenant?"

I gave a huff, blowing from my mouth a lung full of air, whisking away the strand of hair that had made its way down to my face.

"You know what OSWALD, can you like, leave me alone for five minutes."

"…I am everywhere."

The exaggerated roll of my eyes following the pronouncement was sure to be seen by the loving A.I., in all its limited capacities. Oh how he would love to cover up the various cameras placed around the bridge.

"I, my dear friend, shall tune you out now with the loving symphonies of AC/DC."

"Error. I can't seem to play the preferred choice of music. Perhaps Bach or, Mozart shall give you more motivation to finish your tasks."

I had rolled away from the underside of the panel, pointing with an accusatory gaze at the ceiling. I mean, hey, come on, OSWALD had a disembodied voice. Where the hell else would I point?

"I know you have rock bands stashed in your data banks somewhere. No way the Captain would deny my request!"

"Captain Roberts designated that human culture and history be preserved for the consumption of the colonists. I fail to understand the reasoning behind his acceptance of your choice of music."

I rolled back under the panel, refusing to allow the machine to have the satisfaction of seeing his defeated gaze.

"The 80's were a great time my friend."

"It is 2089."

With a huff and puff of annoyance, I stuck the wiring of my rewrite coder into the auxiliary port, checking to see if there was any sign or concern I needed to flag down. It was, perhaps, the most annoying part of being on the technical crew of an expeditionary colonization effort.

Seeing that no Faster Than Light travel had been invented yet, the crew of the _Prometheus_ were all stuck in cryogenic pods, which would ensure (for the most part) that they were alive by the end of their predicted hundred year voyage towards Alpha Centauri B, where preliminary scans showed a fully livable planet orbiting around the warm gaze of a yellow sun, much like the one found in the Sol System.

 _Unfortunately,_ the hundred year voyage would require a ship that didn't break down easily, and while they did make a sturdy rust bucket, it all still required at least one crew member waking up in intervals to troubleshoot or inspect any problems or concerns there may be with the ship.

Thus, I was here, awake after nearly 16 years in stasis. I was the fourth to be woken, and guess what? I had a dozen or so more wake ups until we reached out destination. I wouldn't mind it so much if, say, another were to be awoken.

So, you know, we could bang.

But there wasn't, and to add to the creepiness of the entire situation, a disembodied synthetic being was there to taunt me.

"OSWALD, get me a system scan on the mainframe and tell me if there are any bugs. I'm getting weird telemetry fluctuations from the QR Scanner."

"Processing…" the A.I. said, prompting me to patiently wait for the rest of his analysis.

"There are small anomalies within the mainframe, source is unknown."

"Huh…weird. Log it. And give me a full debrief on what you've found."

"Affirmative."

Rolling away from the panel one last time, I stowed away the roller board, before promptly making my rounds around the different stasis bays around the ship, checking if any of the pods had failed or was on the verge of having any sort of problems.

The entire process took me about twelve hours to complete, enough time for OSWALD to have finished with his compilation.

Reviewing it, however, showed little, if any, clues on what was causing electrical problems and systemic bugs within the ship's navigation and life support systems. It was as if some external anomaly was interfering with their systems. A bad thing to say the least.

"Alright, how about we wake a crew member up eh? Preferably, a male. How about it champ?"

"That is against protocol."

"Oh come on OSWALD!" I say, sitting myself down behind the control panels for the navigation suite of the ship. "I can't…solve this on my own!"

There was a brief silence, as if the A.I. was finally contemplating my request. We have, after all, been going at this for a solid week now, and while the A.I. was excellent company for conversation, he would need a more…physical touch to liven up his shift.

"Lieutenant Jackson, you have been hired by the Manswell Compan-"

"Alright, alright! Sheesh."

"Still, where these system fluctuations are coming from are troubling."

"I know right?" I answered back, tugging at the sleeves of my jacket. "I've done everything by the book, and still nothing. It's like…there's a glitch in the code that's been, well, hardcoded into the mainframe."

"Thankfully, Lieutenant, the inconsistencies don't seem to affect stasis support, or our energy mainframe."

"Small wonders." I answered back with a smile, twirling a pencil in my hand as I made mini calculations in hopes of finding the problem. Whatever it was. "Short of a BSU-T reset or a reset of even you buddy, I can't think of any other solution."

"And both options cannot be done."

"Right."

Whirling around on my chair, I approached the central table of the bridge. A solitary coffee mug, long since been emptied by him, greeted his vision as he plopped a notepad down onto the table. The low lighting of the bridge to preserve power had made his eyes strain a lot more in this past week than it had ever had in his entire existence, and to be perfectly honest, it was giving him a migraine.

There was silence, a silence he took the time to enjoy, as it offered him a reprieve from the technical hellhole he found himself in with no way out. He took deep breaths, as if to calm his nerves, closing his eyes and shutting himself off from the world for that moment.

He could fix this. He was Andrew Jackson, and he was known for fixing things that people normally would have given up on.

Plus, the lives of thirty thousand people depended on him.

There was a buzz, and another, pulling me out of my reverie as I turn to look at what it was. A small, beeping red light on the command console sent me into a frenzy; panic stricken and a cold sweat developing on my forehead, I rushed towards it, the console's many monitors illuminating themselves as if sensing my approach.

The warning light was on.

"OSWALD, tell me something good." He said, hoping against all odds that this was nothing.

"External sensors indicate a telemetric shift on the starboard side of the shift, around twelve thousand kilometers give or take."

"What the hell is it?"

"Unknown. Radiation spikes have been detected. Going well over the threshold capacity of our plates."

 _What the hell?_

"Shit. OSWALD, thaw the crew."

Desperate times, like the manual said, is enough cause to wake up the _Prometheus'_ crew.

"At once."

The ship started shaking, and the lights started to dwindle. I looked around the bridge and watched multiplt monitors lighting on and off, with the emergency lights kicking in.

Shit.

"OSWALD, what's happening?" I drawled out, inputting several commands into the console to help stabilize the ship. "Firing the RCS. That should even us out a bit."

It didn't.

"Lieutenant, I'm reading gravitational and radioactive anomaly from the same location; anomaly s consistent with that of a Black Hole."

 _What? Here? In the middle of nowhere?_

"A black hole?"

"Affirmative. Anomaly is growing in size. Recommend immediate thruster use."

"No, no. We need more speed!"

The ship rocked once more, and on a monitor I watched as the anomaly was visually represented as a slowly swirling disc, growing in size with each second a little ways off to the right of the _Prometheus._

"Status on the thaw?"

"Energy grid is unstable; I cannot sustain enough power to finalize the thaw process."

 _God damn it._

"Keep trying!"

More shudders came, and I could hear the telltale signs of the superstructure receiving tons of stress of the gravitational pull the anomaly was exerting on the ship.

"We need more speed." I whispered, mostly to myself as I tried to regain my composure. I looked back towards the monitors, hoping for any miracle to magically pop up on screen.

And there was.

"OSWALD, keep trying to thaw the crew out, but give me a navigation solution bearing 5-2-2-by-5."

"…towards the planet?"

"Yes."

There was silence on the A.I.'s end, but I felt the ship shudder nonetheless, and the sound of multiple RCS ports firing all at once gave me all the proof I needed to know that OSWALD had followed my command. The small viewport of the bridge was slowly engulfed by the planet's horizon, and I found myself looking at the lush green surface of it.

Livable? Probably. Not the concern right now.

"Sir, the anomaly has stopped growing. But I'm detecting multiple objects exiting it!"

"What? What the hell do you mean multiple objects?"

I looked towards the monitor again, and OSWALD tried to the best of his ability to show fast moving objects hurling out of the anomaly.

 _Shit._

"Shit, OSWALD, fire up the main engine to 100. We need to get the hell out of here!"

"Affirmative."

Those…things were on a straightforward collision course for the _Prometheus,_ and he would be damned if any of them touch the ship.

But they were fast, much too fast to completely avoid.

"Give me a solution on how long it'll take before we're safely out of the trajectory of these damn things!"

"Sir, negative! Objects will reach the ship before we've moved safely out of the way!"

I groaned, beads of sweat rolling down my forehead. I continued to watch the monitor, waiting with baited breath for the objects to come impacting the hull. He had no idea how big or how long any of these things were, as they were far too numerous and moving at a speed too fast for the sensors to properly detect.

And like that, a stroke of genius came.

"OSWALD, fire up the damn RCS and present our broadside to the objects!"

"…At once!"

Slowly, the ship twirled around, causing more stress on the hull. He could see from the broadside cameras a hundred thousand different things, all red and glowing, fast approaching the Prometheus. They varied in sizes as far as he could tell, but if any of the ones that looked big enough to crush a compartment came hurtling to the ship, the _Prometheus_ would not survive.

"Status on the bridge crew?"

"Thaw at 70 percent."

I nodded, watching the countdown until impact dwindle down slowly. It was maddening; it was like a meteor shower, with me actually awake to witness it! I did not expect my day to go like this.

"Impact in three…"

My hands must've gripped the hand rails too tightly, as I felt myself dig in to the palms of my hands too much.

"Two…"

God, was this it?"

"One…"

There was nothing at first, only silence. The panels and machines hummed like they used to, and the blaring of the warning signal remained steady. The lighting, although still flashing on and off in rapid succession, was still a false signal in his mind that they were still safe, that nothing had hit them yet.

And then, it came.

Multiple pings and bangs echoed in his ears; a steady staccato of objects hitting the plating of the ship, penetrating into areas even he didn't want to touch. Multiple warnings were blaring in his ear, as he watched the green status lights of every compartment and section go out. An explosion sent him off his feet, hitting his head to the metal ground and drawing his blood.

"Lieutenant! Life Support systems need to be rebooted! Hydroponics is down! We're venting atmosphere!"

 _Fuck fuck fuck fuck!_

I struggled, trying desperately to clamber up to my feet.

"Navigation solution! Where the fuck are we!"

"We're quickly coming up to the dark side of the planet!"

"Good! Accelerate and slingshot around the damn thing! Get us away from here!"

A hundred different more pings and groans reached my ear, and I saw from the small view port as dozens of different metal objects passed them, reentering or disintegrating within the planet's atmosphere.

"Sir! Bridge Crew stasis bay is going through a power fluctuation! Manual override needed!"

 _God damn it._

I stood up, hoping against all odds that I make it in time. I struggled with the rocking ship, and the darkened hallways illuminated only by the dim emergency lights. It was hell.

It was hell when I entered, finding some of the crew had already woken up.

"Jackson? What the hell is going on?"

I didn't turn to acknowledge nor answer whomever it was, rushing forwards passed the waking people to the one person that was needed in this situation.

The Captain.

"OSWALD, what the hell is wrong with his pod?"

"Primary power is offline. We are running on emergency backup generators."

I tried, as hard as I could, to disengage the pod lock, which had trapped the dear captain inside. He was screaming, yelling, punching as hard as he could on the glass panel of his pod. He looked at me in desperation.

I understood. I understood the panic and fear.

But there was nothing I could do. We tried to pry it open, to unhook the pod from the sparking wires attached to it from the underside.

There was nothing we could do.

The sparks had committed to ignite the flammable chemicals used for stasis and the oxygen inside the pod. It had committed itself to the murder of a human life. It had committed for us to watch out captain die a most painful death.

In the throes of pain, heat, and a slow death, the captain yelled and screamed, begging for help within the small confines of his pod. He punched and kicked, and yet nothing could damage the reinforced glass. Nothing we or he could do helped.

The captain, the one who knew most of what to do in this situation, died amidst the panicked cries of his crew, amidst the sparks falling from the damaged ceiling and panels, amidst the presence of his wife.

And like that, _Prometheus_ was silent.


	3. The Crew

The bridge of the _Prometheus_ had never been this silent.

Miles above the planet they had unsuccessfully slingshot around, they orbited it with little to no hope left within the collective spirits of the gathered bridge crew, who sat down on their various stations with quiet anxiety and sadness.

Would people know, that in years past, these gathered group of individuals, masters in their own respective fields, were once a spirited and hopeful young group, looking outwards to the stars in intrepid fascination to the many wonders and splendors the human soul could uncover hidden behind the smoky vistas of the space they have yet to conquer? Would people know of the bonds formed so strongly with each other, of laughter and tears shed, of the forged union between them all?

The answer, sullenly as it had been served by the death of their young captain, was no. It was a bitter pill to swallow, overshadowed by the fact that thirty thousand human souls hinged on their ability to regroup and recuperate to form viable solutions to the unending question that hung over the _Prometheus._

What were they, a captain-less crew, to do next?

Sadness, grief and loss gave way to bickering; arguments many thought would not come about. The death of Captain George Roberts had indeed hit them hard.

OSWALD, in its finite wisdom and infinite patience, watch all these occur under the watchful eyes of its creator, Doctor Jean Graves. She patiently excluded herself from the arguments, ensuring that her creation would perform to perfection in this hour of great need. Running scans and diagnostics over OSWALD and the ship, she gathered data like a hawk on the hunt. The death of all aboard the _Prometheus_ would not be laid to rest on her shoulders.

With curiosity, OSWALD watched them through the cameras on the bridge. Commander Dawson, the de facto captain of the _Prometheus_ now with Captain Roberts gone, was currently trying to imperiously gather whatever Lieutenant Jackson could provide him. Judging from the looks of the gathered crew, they could do little else but accept that the dire situation the Lieutenant found himself in played hell with his inexperience, amounting to the disastrous results the _Prometheus_ found itself in.

"Well, all things considered, I'm glad we're still in one piece." OSWALD picked up, agreeing with the Commander about his initial assessment of the situation.

"One piece? The ship's a mess! Hull breaches are everywhere! Mike's having a hard time with engineering just trying to patch holes wherever they could!"

Ah, yes, Ms. Monroe, the Company's 'insurance.'

"Be that as it may, Lieutenant Jackson acted out in response with a clear, decisive course of action that saved more lives than was possible under anyone else under his station. You have our thanks, son." Dawson said, looking into the eyes of the young man who found it difficult to accept the praise.

"Now," Dawson began, "the captain is dead. In his stead and by following protocol, I am now the acting captain of this ship until the success of our mission. For my XO, Lieutenant Garson, you shall assume the role until such a time that I am incapable of performing my duties and responsibilities as captain, or if I am incapacitated in anyway."

Garson, a woman of African descent, nodded her acceptance at this.

Dawson circled around the small central table of the bridge, pulling down several monitors mounted along the ceiling. They lit up, illuminating the bridge under various colored lights, sourced from the many materials the OSWALD itself had prepared for the Commander's briefing for his crew.

It was all simply a compilation of the recorded data before, during, and after the anomaly's sudden snapping into existence and its subsequent fiddling out of it.

"Now, as you all know, about an hour or two ago, an unknown anomaly presented itself just a few thousand klicks off the starboard side of the _Prometheus._ According to initial telemetry readings and observations by OSWALD," Dawson pointed off to one of the monitors, "the anomaly was concluded by him to be a black hole, forming suspiciously and without reason to in the middle of this sector."

Nods of acceptance could be seen all around the bridge, with some questioning how a black hole could appear out of nowhere.

"The anomaly proceeded to churn out multiple objects travelling at great speed. Lieutenant Dawson ordered OSWALD to maneuver the ship on a sling shot around the planet we are currently orbiting, in the hopes of escaping what was initially thought to be a black hole. The objects were too fast, with many punching through multiple decks and sectors within the ship. Engineering's on repairs right now with those, but be advised that entire sectors with stasis pods are still reporting atmospheric leakage."

The grim knowledge brought by the captain only pushed some to lower their heads, finding the floor of the bridge more appealing at the moment. OSWALD filed this human behavior into its data banks, flagging it as something to study and observe during the ship's voyage to Alpha Centauri B, should it continue.

"Long story short, gentlemen," Dawson continued, bringing up a live status blueprint of the ship, with many parts in red, "the _Prometheus_ is not capable of making the trip to our destination in the Alpha Centauri cluster."

Groans of anger, annoyance, and disappointment echoed around in the bridge, with none louder than that of Ms. Monroe's, who was obviously taking it to mean that the company's investment had failed.

OSWALD, despite being a construct funded and built by the Manswell Company, found her reaction to be the funniest, if A.I. had any feelings that is.

As the uproar reached a crescendo, Dawson held out a comforting hand, stopping the crew in their tracks. He pursed his lips into a thin line, a show of resolve in the face of this grand uncertainty.

"Now, I know, it looks like we're in trouble. I won't lie, we are. But…we have good news." He said, and as much as OSWALD would have preferred to stay out of this one, his participation was needed. He was the one who informed the Commander of everything, after all.

"The planet below," OSWALD began, "is habitable."

Only silence followed his pronouncement, and OSWALD understood their confusion. They were all told to expect life to be built a little further in space from where they were, told that no planet existed between their destination and Earth that had the capability to harbor life.

Told that they would have to sleep for more than a hundred years.

And yet, here OSWALD stood, having just pronounced the existence of one such world. It had taken all his concentration and runtimes to confirm what his sensors were telling him since they entered the system. How the Company could have missed this was beyond what the A.I. could think of at this point.

"Habitable? So, we could entirely still salvage this op right?" Ms. Monroe said, the ground she paced upon clicking with every step she took.

Commander Dawson looked to his crew, before looking Monroe in the eyes and shrugging nonchalantly, as if he was unperturbed by the fact that they had found a planet far closer to Earth than their destination.

"Yes. However…" One of the monitors flashed, displaying two trajectory lines. "Shortly after the objects made contact with the ship, this came through."

A visual, 3D rendering showed the anomaly, a large swirling disc ten kilometers in diameter, but was as thin as paper. It grew and grew, facing the _Prometheus_ starboard side before churning out hundreds of tiny pixels, meant to serve as a graphical representation of the objects that had collided with the ship. They travelled fast, and most within the crew suspended their disbelief at how incredibly close they all had been with annihilation, given that some of the objects were larger than what their ship could take.

The presentation paused, and the Commander turned to face his crew once more.

"Now, we had ample reason that these are all just, occurrences never before seen, which would tell most of you why we never had protocol for this. We also had sufficient data to conclude that this was nothing but a freak anomaly that managed to churn out meteors."

Snorts and cries of rejection followed this, which only made the Commander raise his hands once more to quell the disturbed crowd.

"I know, I know. We didn't have much of a choice but put the report on the fast track. We didn't know what the hell it was that just happened, and what precisely hit us."

"Well, that's not true." OSWALD cheekily said, prompting the Commander to hang his head low from the A.I.'s claims.

"Right. Well," the Commander began, "this happened after we circled to the dark side of the planet."

The presentation continued, and the crew watched the _Prometheus_ circle around the planet, with the anomaly still swirling around. Slowly, but surely, the anomaly began to shrink in size. No more of the objects were coming through, until, quite rapidly, an object of monstrous proportions rushed through the anomaly.

They watched with disbelieving eyes, as a 5-kilometer monstrosity hurtled through space, following the trajectory line calculated by OSWALD. They punched through the planet's atmosphere, before, due to the limitations of the _Prometheus'_ own systems, crash somewhere in the northern hemisphere of the planet.

"What the hell…?" Was the most common exclamation, as most within the crew let everyone else know of their confusion…and fear.

To be understood, OSWALD thought; intelligent life, itself included, feared the unknown. What separates beings is how they went through with dealing with this fear.

A.I. calculated it, humanity emotionally dealt with it.

"What is that thing Captain?"

"OSWALD?" the Commander intoned, crossing his arms as he stood to the side, waiting for the ship's A.I. to talk.

"Preliminary scans, hampered by most of our sensors being blocked by the dark side of the planet, indicate the object is metallic in nature. The objects in question that hit the _Prometheus_ were of the same synthetic composition as that of the 5-kilometer U.O., leading to the conclusion that it was debris that hit us."

Instead of shock or wonder or amazement, most within the crew just took fact and accepted it; unsure, perhaps, of what raw human emotion they wanted to use at the moment.

Lieutenant Garson chose that moment to speak up, whirling the chair she sat on around to face the rest of the crew and the captain.

"We're dealing with possible extraterrestrials then?"

It was a question that spurned the most reactions out of all that was said that day, with the crew giving incredulous shouts of agreement and disbelief. Murmurs were steadily reaching a crescendo, a fevered pitch that in due time, neither the commander nor his XO would be able to quell.

OSWALD watched, through the lenses of his camera, as they devolved into bickering once more. Fear truly did have disastrous effects on the human mind, whether humanity admitted it or not. They cowered in on themselves, lashing out from the pent up energies they keep gauged within. It was, perhaps, the most common human fault; letting fear run their lives. They let it take the driver's seat, letting it fester and speed up until, finally, the crash.

It was most displeasing to the A.I.'s thought process.

"EVERYONE CALM DOWN!" the Commander shouted, halting the growing arguments surrounding him, forcing everyone to stop and sit back down. A most righteous, furious gaze was fixated upon them, cast by the furled brows of the young commander before them. The commanding presence had now worked to show itself now, and most within the bridge felt that they could do little else but remain subservient to the one leading them.

"The way I see it, we are incapable of travelling further in stasis before we lose power or we vent the rest of our atmosphere. This ship, as much as I love it, is going to breakdown some six months after all this is said and done, and we won't have another golden opportunity to land on a habitable world just like this one." He pronounced, whilst bringing up a map of the planet below.

"The obvious question, at the most pressing one I know, is what to do about this 5-kilometer object. It managed to sustain itself on a leveled out crash landing trajectory, so the question of whether there's intelligent life there is out of the question. There is. So…"

He turned to look at them all, crossing his arms.

"We have two options. Go down there, talk with whoever these…things are, all while unloading everything we have, colonists included, down there. Or…"

He pointed towards the blueprint of the ship, which had various parts of it in red.

"Risk this rust bucket and continue with our voyage with the possibility of some shit going FUBAR somewhere."

"What kind of damage did we even sustain Commander?" Garson asked, a look of contemplation on her face.

"Like I said, multiple hull and deck breaches, energy lines are cut, a huge chunk of Cargo Bay 6 is gone. What else…hydroponics took some damage, and our air filtration system took a huge hit too, so there. Communications are down for the most part, OSWALD says it'll take months to repair that even with a spacewalk."

"So we're dead in the water?"

"We're dead in the water."

OSWALD watched them all once more fall into an uneasy silence, the tension of not knowing what to do reaching a feverish pitch as sat with their own, collective fears. A lot of things could have wrong with their journey, but even this was beyond what the planners of the expedition could imagine. Extraordinary circumstances were not accounted for, leaving the handling of such occurrences in the hands of the crew. This was the reason why predictive analysis, thorough arguments and hypothesis were thrown around in the years leading up to the expedition.

But still, none could have prepared them for this.

It was then that the young Lieutenant Jackson stood from his seat; the man, who had stayed silent and in grief since the death of their captain, spun on his heel and removed himself from the bridge. The rest of the crew watched him leave, with only his close friend, Elsa Gardner, a botanist who was in charge of the hydroponics section, following him with a concerned look on her face.

Zackary Ryder, Michael Holloway, and Eric Gardner soon followed.

It seemed as if their departure was the signal to the rest of the crew, who brought on grim determination on their faces, looking at the new captain with renewed fervor.

"We have no choice?" one of them asked, a Security Officer second to Sergeant Reyes.

Dawson responded with a slight nod, and OSWALD watched as the rest of the security personnel turned and looked at each other, expressions of clarity on their faces.

"We'll prep the _Transcendent_ for launch. If we're going down there, we request that at least half the security team come with us." Reyes spoke up, running a hand through her hair.

Dawson obliged, before turning to Doctor Graves and Lieutenant Monroe, saying "You two go down with the team. I want all eyes on whatever that thing that crashed was."

Both nodded in acceptance of their roles, filing out with the security team soon after.

No more discussions were made, as the rest of the crew filed out of the bridge, to head to the different portions of the ship that still needed repairs. Only Flight Lieutenant Tomlison and his second, Flight Lieutenant Dela Cruz, stayed behind, to undoubtedly ensure that the ship remained in geosynchronous orbit around the suspected crash site.

An unease then fell on the bridge, that even OSWALD, for all its mechanical and synthetic components, felt.


	4. The Crash

_**Roberts**_

"Hey…hey Joe wait up!"

I turned around on my heel, wiping the small trickles of tears that had made its way down my face. The thin layering of our body suits gave me trouble, as the heating panels on board the ship refused to work, giving any who was awake a slight chill comparable to the freezing cryostiphelis products usually applied to the body before stasis.

Thankfully, we still had layers of body armor and other articles of clothing to wrap around ourselves.

"Yeah?" I asked, watching as my close friend approached me, a small, apologetic smile on her face.

"How are you?" She asked, putting both arms on her waist, uncaring even as I turned away from her to put on several articles of clothing from my locker. Only the sound of buckles and pins clipping against each other echoed in the empty armory, with intervals of my own, heavy breathing resonating against the thin metal walls.

"I'm fine." I said, zipping up my jumpsuit before pushing my hand back into the locker, intent on grabbing the rather heavy armor chest plating, a necessity for the A.S.M., which would at least make sure I was able to breathe whatever atmosphere was down there.

I did not, for the life of me, even realize the soft touch of her hand on my arm. It was only until she spoke, that I had to stop what I was doing.

"I'm sorry about your brother." She said, and at this moment I felt a fresh batch of tears forming in my eyes.

"It's fine."

She didn't respond, and so neither did I, focusing my attention back to the gear I still have yet to completely put on.

"Sarge…"

"Sarge wants me to sit this one out. I know. I get it. My brother's dead, still sitting in his god damn pod and everybody wants me to grieve. Well I don't. Okay? That good?"

I did not see her sad nod, or the flinch from when my voice was raised. I knew she meant well, but at the moment, I needn't any comfort. I just wanted to do my job.

"And you can tell the Sarge that too." I exclaimed, proceeding to slam the door of my locker like a petulant child. She followed me as I walked out of the armory, helmet in my hand. There was little I could do about the situation for now, except give my brother a proper burial when we go groundside…hopefully.

They were all already assembled. Fourteen of them would be going planetside, with the addition of Doctor Graves and Lieutenant Garson, the latter would be taking lead over the op with Sergeant Reyes being her second. Doctor Graves, well, being the chief science officer, I suppose she was there for a First Contact scenario.

It goes without saying that as soon as I entered, everyone bowed their heads towards me, which I all took in stride. I know they all meant well.

"Private Roberts, glad you could join us." Sergeant Reyes said, his lips curled into a slight smile. The look he gave Jess did not go unnoticed by me, nor was the slight shake of my companion's head.

"Glad to be here sir." I replied, trying not to act like anything was wrong.

When everything was.

"Right. Everybody line up. Let's go down the Tube nice and easy."

The 'Tube' was a ten feet long service hole that extended to the ship's external underbelly, where the _Transcendent_ , a 150 meter long shuttle-like vessel, was laid to rest.

They all climbed down the hatch, with myself having a case of vertigo from the sudden lack of gravity inside the depowered ship.

"Make sure to zip yourself into the seats. Y'all know what'll happen in zero-g when we reenter." Doctor Graves said, earning a small chuckle from the collective group of security personnel.

"Helmets on. I don't want any nasty surprises." Sergeant Reyes ordered.

I took the said piece of equipment in my and, watching my reflection from visor. It was, perhaps, a somber moment, seeing more of my brother in that reflection than I did myself.

Funny how life turned out. He was the most successful between the two us, and yet here I was, still breathing.

Funny indeed.

I put it on, clipping the latches that to my chest plate, before twisting it, locking the helmet in place. As if by sensing this, the internal lighting of the helm lit up, illuminating my face for the world to see. With beeps, the rest of the people with him had their faces illuminated too, and I saw, for the most part, the excitement and nervousness some held within their eyes.

Perhaps it was only the Sergeant and Lieutenant Garson that held steely resolves, intent with finding out only one thing.

What it was that damaged their ship so horrendously.

I waited with a calm breath, as the Heads Up Display began booting. Logos of the Manswell Company, the United States of America, and of other countries that had participated in the venture lit up my screen. Slowly, but surely, blue dots with names to their sides hung over the lower left hand side of my HUD, displaying the vitals of all of the personnel surrounding him.

It was an eerie way of telling someone still alive if all the others were dead, he thought morosely.

"Closing the latch." Reyes said, and I could the whirring of the mechanical service doors closing atop the ship, isolating them from the rest of the _Prometheus._ Hissing reverberated around the small space they shared, a telltale sign of the _Prometheus'_ dock bay pressurizing itself in preparation for the _Transcendent's_ detachment.

I counted down the minutes it took for everyone to get settled, closing my eyes in the briefest of circumstances as I prepared _myself_ for the mission at hand. The sound of the ship whirring to life brought me out of reverie, as the lights dimmed out, with only the glow of the planet illuminating the inside of our small ship.

It was breathtaking, I had to admit; though there was no visual comparison to seeing Earth for the first time from the heavens, whatever this planet was would come close in my books.

"Looks like there's a storm headed over our drop zone. I don't like this doc."

"Storm's pretty weak. It'll just be winds up around 40 kilometers an hour. Nothing the _Transcendent_ can't handle, eh Sarge?"

There was nothing left said on the intercom, only the sound of machines whirring and metal grinding was the Sarge's response. They all felt the stutter, the sudden jerk of the ship as it detached itself from the _Prometheus._ They were well and truly on their way now.

" _Transcendent to Prometheus, how copy?"_

" _Reading you five-by-five, Reyes. Setting trajectory course for Transcendent along grid kilo-five-eight, bearing five-five-by-five."_

" _Copy. Prometheus be advised, we're seeing a small storm whipping up the area down there."_

"… _Copy. Proceed with caution. If it's too bad, break and we'll try again another day. Priority set list is to determine atmosphere viability. Put either a location for colonization or the unraveling of our mystery first. How copy?"_

" _Solid copy. Communication resumption in 30. Out."_

Very quickly, I felt the ship shudder, and familiar whir of the engines booting gave me a sense of comfort I didn't know I needed.

Along the horizon, I could see many shades of blue, a telltale signs of multiple bodies of water dotting this planet. It was amazing.

It was one thing to be told by scientists that a world out there existed where human lives could be built upon, and it was another thing entirely to actually see for my own eyes, a world very different from Earth, and yet the same.

Our flight path took us over many swathes of green, huge enough for me to enjoy everything I could see. But what turned me back into my stupor soon came up, as the _Transcendent_ crossed paths, ever so briefly, with the top half of the _Prometheus._

What they affectionately called as the bee hive, spherical protrusions atop of the ship that housed most of the colonist's stasis pods, were littered with tiny holes marring the hull plating, a testament to how many hits they took from the anomaly. Various satellite equipment just above the bridge were damaged too, as were the many cargo bays that held most of the tools they needed to live on a planet.

It was jarring to see, and offered more nervousness to myself than what the comfort of the _Transcendent_ could provide.

As we zoomed off, past the ship and lower into the atmosphere of the planet, I could start to hear the beginnings of what sounded like the storm. Flashes of blue and white took turns in lighting the inside of their ship, as small water droplets could be seen on the cockpit's glass, becoming more frequent the lower they got into the dark grey clouds.

And then, as if a great mystery was unraveling, they sped past the clouds.

A sea greeted their view; as blue as the waters that Earth had, only hidden behind the darkened clouds of the storm, and of the large waves crashing against the landmass on the horizon. Already from where they were, they could see large, yellow lights illuminating the darkened sky. Pillars of smoke bellowed from wherever in the distance, a sign that there was, indeed, a crash.

"Alright. Doc, how are the readings?" Reyes asked, never removing his gaze from the horizon.

"Atmospheric pressure is more than perfect. Oxygen levels are on par with that of Earth…hell, nearly all these readings are Earth like. It's safe."

Without knowing it, all of them let out a breath of air; at least something was going right.

"Good, that makes our jobs a lot easier then." Reyes commented, piloting the ship past the shoreline and deeper into what seemed like a forest.

"I'm landing the ship a couple of klicks away from where those big fires are coming from. Dante and Jebbs, you stay here and guard the ship."

"AYE SIR!"

The ship came up to a slow descent, just inside a small clearing where the trees seemed to bend over backwards from the extreme gusts of wind the VTOL system of the ship exerted. With a soft thud, the ship made landfall, simultaneous with the internal lights going on at once.

I didn't even notice that gravity had come back.

We all, in unison, stood; grabbing what we needed from the small armory on our way out. Rifles, scanners, medical equipment: all of it they took. And as the back ramp of the ship opened up, I got an idea as exactly why we needed said tools.

A forest, there was no doubt of that. I had no idea what the wildlife was like here, but back on Earth, forests usually meant bears.

Or worse.

As we filed out of the ship, I couldn't help but look around in wonder of where I was. Without a doubt, I could say with certainty that the trees here looked much like the pine trees back on Earth. They surrounded everything, and everywhere they looked seemed like another trunk, fallen or not, of a tree. It was breathtaking, and certainly would have filled him up with excitement had it not been for…

Right. I shook my head, focusing myself to the task at hand.

The rest of the team had departed themselves from the ship, forming a loose circle around the doctor and Lieutenant Garson. Equipped with nothing but scanners and a handgun, the doctor rushed forward, dragging two privates along with her.

"Careful doc, we don't know what's up there." Garson said, her hand resting lightly on the butt of the pistol on her thigh.

" _Check comms, check comms."_ Reyes said, and one by one they signed off with the radio check.

" _2-5 clear."_ I said, hanging just behind the crew, checking my surroundings for anything that might creep up on us.

" _Greenie planets means a whole lot of things that can kill yah. Look at Australia."_ I remembered one of my instructors telling us.

How I wish this planet had friendly bears.

" _Crash site's east of here. About 1 kilometer or so."_ Garson relayed, and I could hear the collective sighs of exasperation from the rest of the men. _"Pucker up boys, shouldn't be too long a walk."_

 _ **The Prometheus**_

 _ **Dawson**_

Hydrate.

Flight school always said to keep ourselves hydrated. Water, coffee, pus filled food…anything to sustain a decent amount of fluids in our body. I had sugar, coffee beans, hot water, tea bags, weird flavored drinks, and an assortment of other unnecessary crap surrounding me and yet…I was parched.

As I walk, hand slightly trembling over the many fixtures of the bridge I touch, I could not help but get the thought of unease following every footstep I make.

The Captain was dead.

Try as might to act like everything would be okay, I knew in the deep recesses of my mind that we were all bound in a rather precarious position. _I_ was bound in a precarious position; one that offered little comfort to ease my aging heart.

The position of power was something that most men aspired to, and yet it all still left a bitter taste in my mouth that I had attained mine through the death of a comrade; a superior who I respected more than anybody else on this damn ship.

"Away team just dusted down captain."

"Commander will do, James." I said.

"Sir?" He asked, head rising up from his station on Communications.

I did not oblige him with an answer, not really feeling the need to explain myself. I was tired as it was, and I didn't have a slick of patience to deal with explaining my own emotional turmoil to the men. They did, after all, have to look to me now for guidance.

"A lot of lightning in that storm. Is it going to interfere?" I asked, hands clasping behind my back.

James looked towards De la Cruz, who could only shrug, before answering.

"If the storm goes above the wind speeds it has, and if that lightning gets even more frantic, then yes cap- I mean commander."

I nodded. A satisfactory answer.

"Get Reyes on the horn."

There was a little static blaring on the speakers, before the near deafening voice of Reyes filled the entire bridge.

" _Ground team to Prometheus, you called?"_

"Reyes," I began, "We might run into some comm problems with that storm. I want you to try and keep your channels clear, and boost the signal from the _Transcendent._ "

" _I copy."_

"Status?"

" _Well, we're in some really deep neck of the woods right now. The trees here captain…they're…like Earth's."_

I raised an eyebrow at this, and judging from how Monroe had walked up beside me so suddenly, she must be as well.

"Could you repeat that sergeant?" she said, and I haphazardly turned to give her a questioning gaze, one she ignored.

 _Suits._ I thought, a thought perhaps shared by Reyes. There was a silence on their end for a few seconds, before Reyes repeated his message, a tad bit more hostile than I would have liked.

" _We'll maintain comms through the Transcendent if the storm is too much. Radio contact again in 30."_ He said with finality, which I accepted for the most part.

"Copy."

The bridge was filled with silence once more, as no one said anything, leaving them all with the silent hum of OSWALD's and the ships gears and gizmos.

"Command suits you, you know?" Monroe said, not moving from her place.

My eyebrow did not leave its raised state.

"Not something I would like right now, given the circumstances." I replied.

"Oh no, no no, definitely not!"

"Yes, well, playing the spectator role doesn't suit you either."

I swear, I could hear the rustling of her skin as she smiled, crossing her arms above her chest, uncaring for everything that was happening around her.

"Perhaps, perhaps not." She said, finally making a move to leave him alone on the bridge, before she turned back, the clicks of her heels resounding on the metal tiling of the floor.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry for the captain. He was a good man." She said, before completing her departure.

I did not humor her with a response, closing my eyes and bowing my head instead in silent prayer.

"Tell that to his brother." I whispered.

 _ **Roberts**_

Fucking insects, some as large as half a man, were what annoyed all of them the most.

With sanctioned discharges from their weapons, I and the crew scoured deep into the forest, firing at anything that had tried to even remotely approach our crew. The doctor, for all that she was an intelligent woman, didn't seem the most sensible in my mind, as she just about stopped to take samples and pictures and whatnot of the various flora, fauna, and wildlife they encountered.

It was most perplexing; this planet was, due to how similar it was to Earth. Redwood trees, interlaced with a few pines in between them, dotted the forest they were in. It was as if they never left. Reyes himself would often stop to let loose a few comments about his bewilderment and confusion; was this how the rest of the habitable worlds around the galaxy like? Something alien with how different animals and insects could be, and yet still so familiar with the lack of anything new regarding the plants they found?

I myself, not one to shy away from my own curiosity, stopped to pick up a piece of wood, and although it wasn't much evidence, I knew that indeed, I could find this same piece of wood back on Earth.

" _Clearing's up ahead. We should get a good view of the site."_ Garson said, who was up ahead at the front of the group. Our flashlights shined the darkness ahead in front of us, but could do little to wash away the bright yellow embers of what was presumably a _burning_ crash site up ahead.

" _My god…"_ I heard her say, and it was this little stimulus that had me turning my head in apt curiosity. I found my feet walking faster than what my consciousness would have wanted, breaking protocol and brushing past other members of our team. I pushed through bushes and leaves and deathly thin branches in my way, all because I wanted to see what was ahead of us.

And when I got there, my breath was taken away.

It was like a scene in one of the more optimistic and hopeful movies I had seen back on Earth before we were quarantined in preparation for the launch.

In the sky, a large ringed world shadowed over the horizon, occupying much of it with spectacular views of the planet's ring. It was a valley they were in, larger perhaps, than any I had ever seen before in my life. At the end of where his eyes could see, twin mountains seemed to reach up and touch the stars, snowy tops capping the highest point of the twins. It was a most beautiful site, and I stopped short of gasping out loud at the view.

The embers of burning trees and flames illuminated everything else that the sun, stars and moon could not on the ground. I turn my attention towards our lofty goal, squinting at the bright lights in the distance, and of a large ship, as it most definitely was, hanging in the background.

It had skidded perhaps a few more kilometres deeper into the valley, leaving behind a trail of disturbed soil and rock, as well a few chunks of the ship's exterior. What I could only properly guess was the ship's hull had been left behind; the fact that a majority of the ship was intact was a testament to whatever engineering feats had been accomplished to achieve such a controlled crash.

"Jesus." Garson said, whipping out her long range, thermal binoculars to get a clearer view of what was in the valley below.

"We're lucky we didn't get hit by that thing on its way in." the sergeant commented, slinging his rifle back on his shoulder. "That thing would've smashed right through the _Prometheus_ and lived another day."

Murmurs of agreement followed his statement, disturbed only by the strange noises that seemed to surround our group.

A cross of a bird and a Hyena's caw, it pierced through the silence within the group, as we all turned and aimed our rifles at some unseen threat.

"What the hell was that?" I asked, eyes unmoving from the darkened corners of the forest.

"Keep your eyes peeled boys." Reyes said, crouching down on one knee, keeping the doctor and Garson behind him, both of which had stopped ogling the ship to train their own pistols back to the trail they had come from.

Silent seconds ticked by, with neither the strange sounds, nor anything else coming into play.

"Probably nothing," the doctor said, "wildlife. Shouldn't hurt us if we just be careful."

"Aye. Three, hang back as a rear guard. Roberts, take point. I'm not too keen on shooting any animals." Reyes commanded, which was followed to the letter.

I stepped ahead of everyone else; I was the fastest and keenest on the details compared to everyone else. At this point though, I didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse.

"Doc, Lieutenant, stick behind Roberts. The rest of you, spread out into a perimeter as soon as we step off this cliff."

Affirmatives followed his pronouncement, as slowly, they trickled down off of the cliff.

They were still a few meters off from the beginning point of the crash, but already I could feel the heat through my suit. It only ever got worse the closer we got, as the soil all but smoked from the damning heat of the ship as it came through. Huge swathes of trees had been bent down, crashing deep into the soil beneath them, with various fires engulfing many.

It was a hellish sight, if not the least bit amazing. I had never seen a forest fire; this might be the closest to one I'll ever see.

Our steps had created a cloud of dust and smoke behind us, and I did my best to not allow any of it to touch my rifle. We skirted just outside of the ship's trail, not wanting to test if our suits could withstand the heat at its core.

Slowly, but surely, we pushed forwards, passing strange, if insignificant debris. But one would shake us, creating incomprehensible mysteries that even the doctor could not answer.

It happened just a few klicks away now from what we surmised to be the ship's engines; what seemed to be a crate, or a collection of them at least, was laid out, sprawled over the various other pieces of debris around a fallen tree.

"You seeing this?" One of them asked, and I could not snap my head away from the fact that, in English lettering, the contents of the metal crate were laid out before me.

I, hesitatingly, crouched low, being the point man of the group, and clasped between my fingers a piece of plastic. Had I been on Earth, I would have uncaringly thrown it away thinking it was trash.

But we weren't on Earth.

 _Chee-Z-Snax,_ it read, in perfect English alphabet lettering.

It was decidedly unfamiliar to me, and to most of our group, as we took turns passing the wrapper around, as the doctor listed all of the impossibilities of such a thing appearing on a foreign world thousands of lightyears away at the same time as the _Prometheus_.

Indeed, it was impossible to comprehend.

Not much was said, although the lingering thought of what it could be that they would encounter on the ship loomed over them all. The sound of flames and the heat grew stronger with every step they took, and I, personally, wished I was anywhere but here at the moment.

"Doc, look at this." One of the men said, prompting them all to turn towards the source of the voice, who was crouched over another pile of debris, fingers touching a small piece on the ground.

He lifted it up for all to see, as the doctor took it from his hands.

A gasp was all she had as a response, unable to comprehend any further on the situation they found themselves in.

"Doc? What is it?" The sergeant asked, as he himself walked forwards, taking the piece of metal away from the doctor, who looked shocked at whatever it was they had taken. She moved away from the captain, digging through any other pile of debris she could find, only eliciting more gasps from her.

Garson followed suit, and even she gasped at what they saw.

The events had prompted me to move forward, towards the sergeant, as no one else seemed to bother trying to know what was going on.

"Sarge?" I asked, Jess right behind me.

The sergeant said nothing, handing me instead the piece of metal as his focus turned towards the wayward doctor.

A predatory eagle was embossed on the metal, broken in a few places by soot and the inevitable damages such a thing would receive on re-entering a planet. It was an eagle, no doubt, with its wings spread out, with a world, a planet, clutched tightly in its talons. The words _U.N.S.C._ were written across the planet, and I for one, gasped too at this.

"What the hell's going on?" I asked, unsurprised at the silence that greeted me. No one had a clue, and I could do little else but look up at the darkened visage of the ship that was ever so close to where we were.

"The security council? The _United Nations Security Council?_ Here?" the doctor exclaimed, her face scrunched up in thought and confusion. "But…how? It's impossible."

"It has been a few years since we left. Maybe they made a breakthrough." One of the men said, shrugging.

"And built a five-kilometer ship? Impossible. Even if there was a breakthrough, it would have gone through years of testing first, before ever attempting to build a ship. A five-kilometer one no less."

"Right," the sergeant began, "I could care less if its humans in there or English speaking aliens. We go forward for first contact. We have to know what we're up against, and we have to make peace with them, whoever they are. I'd rather not have enemies when we settle."

Nods of agreement followed this, and I moved forward of my own volition, intent on continuing with my assignment as the point man.

Closer and closer we moved, passing just underneath the protruded side of the ship. I lay a hand on the hull, knowing full well that the heat could burn through my suit.

Instead I was shocked.

It was cold, far too cold for any ship that had suffered through a re-entry, an observation I had passed along to the doctor, who did little else but reply with a nod.

"I'm not seeing any entrance." I said, rushing ahead of the group.

I passed many more crates, and even open sections of the ship, which were all too high for me to reach. Clouds of smoke and embers shrouded much of what was visible to my eye, even hiding me from the view of the rest of the team.

"Careful Roberts!" I heard the sergeant say, as passed through several more large pieces of debris.

Finally, I could see something.

An opening on the ship, leading into…a corridor perhaps. The interior was darkened, perhaps a sign of power failure, and I thanked my luck that a small rocky protrusion was high enough for me to climb and get on board.

"I see something! Up here!" I yelled out, thoughtlessly beginning to climb the protrusion. It was stable enough for the most part, as I managed to get on top.

There. The opening. It was close.

I put out my flashlight, illuminating the darkened interior as far as my eye could see. Yellow caution barricades and railings were blocking me from being able to completely get in; a dead end.

A dead end of course, were I not small enough to fit through the small crevices.

Suddenly and without warning, a blast of static came over the comms, and I pushed my head up to look at the sky, witnessing without a doubt the _Transcendent_ flying high above us, searchlights cutting through the thick clouds.

" _Sergeant! Sergeant! Do you read, over?"_ Came the hurried broadcast.

" _This is the sergeant! What the hell are you doing here?"_ Came the reply.

" _We had to bug out! Unknowns fucking KIA'd Jebbs!"_

" _What?"_

" _You have unknowns coming in from your six. I say again, you have unknowns coming in on your six!"_

What followed was panicked gunfire, and I readied my rifle just in case. I was too far away to see what they were firing at, and was too far up to make a quick climb to the bottom of the protrusion.

As far as I could tell, I was isolated up here.

" _Everyone to Roberts, now!"_ I heard the sergeant yell out, as I crouched low into a firing position, my rifle aimed towards the clouds and embers that separated us. I could see the flashlights they had turned on, fumbling through the clouds as fast as their bodies could take them, as one by one they pushed through, climbing slowly up the protrusion.

" _Shit! We hav—sshhh—down. She's KIA!"_

" _Jess run!"_

" _What the fuck are these things?"_

" _Aghhhh!"_

It was maddening to hear, my focus entirely devoted to the communications being passed between the men, even as I had flattened down to my stomach, grasping at the hands of the few men and women that had managed to attempt to climb the protrusion. The doc was up first, followed by a few of my compatriots, and then the Lieutenant.

I could not see Jess anywhere.

"Sergeant!" I yelled out, hoping against all odds that a few were still with him.

The steady staccato of gunfire echoed still, and I watched as few more of the group break through the smoke.

"It's behind us!" They were all repeating, climbing desperately on top of the protrusion. Those that had already climbed to the top were unloading everything they had into the smoke, uncaring if there were still a few of our own men hidden on the other side.

"Where's the sergeant?" I asked, pulling the last man up.

"I dunno." Was my response, and we waited with baited breath as the _Transcendent_ made another pass above us, and as the staccato of gunfire still echoed deep within the smoke.

"Lieutenant!" I asked, unsure of what to do.

No response.

I looked behind me, watching the doctor fumbling around a body- the Lieutenant's – and only then did I know how dire our situation was. Huge gashes had ripped through her body suit, as the visor of her helm was coated in thick layers of blood.

"What the hell happened?" I asked someone, anyone, hoping that I would get an answer.

None came.

My decision was set then, as I pushed myself up, before climbing slowly down.

"What the hell are you doing?" the doc asked, moving away from the Lieutenant. "You're gonna get yourself killed!"

"Just get the fuck inside of the ship. I'm going to try and find the sarge!" I yelled back, my feet touching the ground. _And hopefully Jess._

What I did for that pompous ass sometimes.

I ignored their calls to come back, pushing through the smoke and embers, the heat of the fires making me sweat inside my own suit.

Rifle was in hand, as I twisted and turned away from whatever debris was blocking my path.

The sounds of fighting had long since stopped, and without further ado, I found myself in a clearing; a small space devoid of debris, but with smokes clouding my view all around. A perfect spot for an ambush.

The sounds that had made us all jumpy a few minutes ago on the cliff penetrated through my helm once more, and I found myself twisting around and around, rifle facing every direction for anything that may come up.

"SARGE!" I yelled, hoping to get a response.

What I got instead was something crashing into my side.

Tumbling and hurtling, I rolled away from whatever it was, landing painfully on my chest.

My rifle. Where was my rifle.

A vicious roar echoed in the winds, as I jumped up to one knee, turning to face what was, perhaps, the most predatory creature I could ever imagine.

It stood on six legs, a testament in itself, with four legs closer to its rear than the remaining two at its front. It had the snout of a horse, but was capped on top with a beak-like appendage. Four eyes looked at me, with sharp whiskers protruding from the back of what I could only surmise as its jaw. It was grey in colour, and the talon-like claws it had gave me all that I needed to know regarding the Lieutenant's grievous injuries.

"The fuck are you?" I commented, and its reply was a loud growl, far removed from the soft caws we had earlier heard.

It circled around me once, and I did my best to face it every step of the way, readying my knife, as small as it was, too.

And then it pounced, forcing me to roll to the side.

It was fast.

It had kicked out from its rear legs, catching my back, forcing me down back on the ground. I should have known that was the end for me, as it reared back and jumped forwards, catching me just as I had turned to lay on my back.

The roar it gave to my face; I'd have thought that that was it for me.

But twin echoes of a pistol echoed in the air, and the creature, for all its might, cried out in agony. It twisted itself off from me, before pouncing about to whoever it was that shot it.

The staccato of a rifle filled my ears, and finally the beast lay dead at the feet of Reyes, who in the light of the embers and fires behind him, seemed more like a holy man than that of the one preached of back on Earth.

"Get up!" He said, pulling me up to my feet. "We need to get out of here!" He growled out, turning around to shoot his rifle.

In the distance I could hear the cries of pain from the beasts, but paid no heed to it as we ran off, back in the direction of where I had found the opening.

Little did I know that we had slowly steered away from the proper path, and the beasts all but followed us wherever we ran.

Suddenly, another one of those things crashed into me, jumping out of the shadows. It pushed me towards the edge of a rock, the bottom of the other side being deep enough to kill me should I fall.

"Hang on!" The sergeant yelled out, shooting away the beast that had managed to clamber back to its feet.

But it was too little, too late, as the ground beneath me gave, and I found myself falling into a crevice that had gone unnoticed before.


	5. The Dawn of a New Age

**February, 2129**

" _Stay nice, and low."_

I obliged, keeping my knees tucked underneath my chin; crouching low behind the tall hedges that blocked my way. One could see, behind the small holes dotting the greenery, my prey. It was feeding; blood oozed down the sides of its maw, as deep rumbling echoed from its throat. It was enjoying itself, feeding on the carcass of a dead man.

When one steps into the forest, they were as good as dead.

" _Good; you're improving. Hug that side and loop around. Flank it."_

Breath held in, muscles clenching, I moved. Swift but quietly, I carefully maneuvered to a better position, careful to not allow any noise to sway my feet. The blue sky above illuminated everything, and yet I was as invisible as predator amongst its prey. And indeed, that was what I was; a predator.

The silent crunches of the twigs and leaves beneath me did little to deter my adversary from its meal. It was a folly it would soon regret.

" _Nice and slow."_

There were few things in that moment that I regretted; but a whole host of hope and wonder still lit my soul. I _needed_ this kill, if only to spare me and mine from the harsh punishment that awaited us afterwards should I fail.

Not eating was a punishment indeed.

Finally, in position, I kneeled; ready to pounce, ready to die.

If death was nature's call, then so be it. But I would fight until there was nothing to be wrought but my shallow breaths. For that was what was taught; that was what _humanity_ was, and that is what _humanity_ would always be. A struggle until the last, vested breaths of a life left longing.

" _Are you ready?"_

I did not oblige the voice with an answer; to voice my affirmation to his question would mean certain death in the face of my hunt. The _Preta,_ who had terrorized many of my kind as I have been taught, had earned their supernatural name through sheer violence alone. I would not be its victim, even if death deemed it so.

" _Go."_

That was all I needed, as I rushed my prey with a loud shout. The sharp branches and leaves had left its marks on my body; the gallon's worth of mud painted on me did little to stop the sharp slashes and the stinging pain. But I refused to pay it any heed, as I ran forwards, the beast before me jumping back. It growled.

I yelled.

It pounced.

And I stabbed.

It hit the creature, right between where its neck and shoulder met, and for a fleeting moment I thought I had won. But it was not to be, as the _Preta_ slashed at me with its sharp claws, opening a wound across my chest. It would be there for life.

I jumped back in staggering pain, falling on my back as the creature, injured as it was, veered its course away from me. It never took its eyes from my figure, but from the wound I had dealt, it would keep its distance.

One problem; my spear was stuck in its neck. It knew it, and I knew it too.

And so I ran, jumping from my position as fast as I could. It followed me, rushing past the thick flora surrounding our dance; tears had long since ran down my face, as I felt the stinging sensation trickle into my chest from the saltiness of the expression of my pain.

Run and run, was all I did. The voice had long since gone; it had abandoned me, for I was good as dead.

This, was this to be my death?

Perhaps.

But I refuse to accept it. As I scrunched my face up in pain, refusing to let any more tears fall, I assessed my surroundings. The thick flora had long since given way to a wide clearing. There was nowhere else to hide, but the shallow crevice piercing deep into the rock formation ahead. The beast, for all its loud growls and quick legs, was too injured to continue at the same pace as it had once set out to chase me. Dangerous as it was, it was injured, as an idea formed in my head.

I rushed deep into the crevice, pushing myself past the hardness of the crevice walls. Once I was deep within, I kneeled, awaiting the beast outside to follow suit.

The tears had long since dried, but the blood continued to flow. Dirt, mud, and grim covered me, as I stared ahead with concentrated eyes. This was either my life, or my death.

As it should be in nature's course.

It leapt from outside, a roar in its throat, its final action for the day.

But I would prevail.

Its sides had caught the walls of the small crevice, its frame embedding itself into the formation. It was stuck, with nothing but its maw and a paw making its way into the crevice.

I smiled, a small victory for the day, as I grasped my spear, still protruding from its neck.

With a heave, I pushed.

* * *

"The practical examinations were a resounding success for all candidates."

A collection of snorts, cries of disbelief, and general aggressiveness against her pronouncement greeted her. To be expected, but not welcome.

"Why were we not informed of this test?" many demanded of her, as I crossed my arms over my chest, a mischievous smirk crossing my features.

"For what? This project, all of its implementation, belongs to me."

"Doctor, you cannot simply ignore the suggestions of this committee. We are here to-"

"I'm sorry; we started this project, behind the backs of all those we claim to serve, and this committee, in all its self-righteous glory, has done nothing but stand in the way of success."

"Your methods have been nothing short of brutal!"

I lost the smirk, a focused, angry look marring my features instead. I walked forwards, past the illuminated holographic panels displaying _Terra_ in all its glory, and closer to the screens displaying the many members of the committee. I looked at them, the same way they looked at me; with unhidden contempt and frustration.

"Since we've begun, my methods have yielded a 90% success rate on a year-on-year basis. A percentage yielded, mind you, by wholly ignoring the suggestions and limitation you have put forth on this project."

The members all continued to shout their disapproval, with some voicing their opinions on my removal.

They would never understand; sacrifices were what it took to secure humanity.

As the arguments dwindled down in to silence, as the committee members undoubtedly conversed in secret, I looked up to the only man on the screen who has thus far supported me. With a grim face, marked by lines of age marring his facial features, he looked down at me with understanding. He, of the few on this committee, understood what it took for this project to fly.

"Doctor," he began, "committee members, we all knew what we were getting into when this project began." Quiet murmurs followed his pronouncement, "We all knew what we were committing to; not just for ourselves, or _humanity_ , but for these children as well."

"That does not mean that we should treat them like soldiers at this young an age! This program is still in its infancy, and yet we are all already leading them to situations of slaughter!"

Agreements broke out, and all the man in front of her could do was hush them all into silence. With a deep, commanding voice, he continued.

"Wasn't that what we agreed to when we began? Four hundred and fifty children, people. Four hundred and fifty. That is the number we have…conscripted for our cause. Did we somehow took a misstep in informing you all of the grizzly details on the specifics of this program? Or did you all somehow agreed to this, with no thought given to how much of a sacrifice this was truly going to be."

Silence greeted them, with no one speaking out. The experiences of these… _Purities_ as compared to that of the _Veterans_ had shown a startling division of opinion between them. At least, in the government it did. Civilians can continue in their ignorance for all they cared.

"Lord Hood we…understand. It's just, many of us have concerns as to how fast this program is progressing, when we agreed to take it slow so as to not…make mistakes we have done _before._ "

The shallow intake of breath from all the _Veterans_ was a deathly warning for everyone to tread lightly on what they were going to say.

 _These people…they'll never understand what we went through. What to them was fantasy, is to us a reality._

Lord Hood, in all his composed demeanor, simply thinned his lips into a line.

"We did what had to be done." He said, leaving no one with an opinion on what else to say.

No one could discount their experiences, what they had lost. No one.

"I will suggest, however, to _please_ some of you," he said, venom trickling down his voice, "that we take your opinions into account. Doctor, you will ladderize this program. We shall increase the developmental difficulty for the subjects year-on-year. They are not like the S-II's."

Displeased, I could do little else but nod.

"And to the rest of you…this is all an adjustment. I understand. But lest you all forget…this _is_ for the common good."

Nods of agreement, though apprehensive, were all the responses Hood got. With a grim nod, he disconnected, and one by one, so did the rest of the committee members. I stayed where I was for a moment, rooted to the spot by the decision that was made for me. I did not like it, but I had to abide by it. Such was life.

"Gambit." I said, looking towards a holo projector in the corner of my office. A blue figure, simply visualizing itself into a glowing orb, appeared.

"Yeah Doc?"

"Scrap the schedule; I want nothing but classroom lectures for the subjects for the next 8 months. 'Playground' practical exams only afterwards."

"You're really going to bow down to the slobs?"

I hissed in annoyance, sitting down behind my desk, exhaustion catching up to me. "What would you have me do?"

Silence greeted her, before the A.I. veered away from its panel, floating in front of her.

"Take the top performers and…up the ante."

I raised a curious eyebrow, unsure of the suggestion. "Wouldn't that catch the committee's attention?"

"Doc, the people handling the subjects are literally all down for your way of developing them. They _will_ lie for you."

 **March, 2134**

"Subject Delta-04, what comes next?"

"Following the surrender of the German Empire, the Allies levied harsh punishments on Germany, causing its division and extreme poverty and inflation to run rampant within the confines of the new German territory. The surrender of Germany directly led to the environment, harsh as it was, that bred Adolf Hitler and Nazi Germany."

A brief pause greeted him, as his teachers all took his opinion into account. One by one, they wrote down on a piece of paper, grading him under speculative gazes cast down on him. The lecture hall, devoid of any other student apart from him, echoed his words back to him, resounding in his head. Lights filtered in from outside, illuminating the hall and all of its inhabitants.

Slowly, one of his teachers looked down at him, leaning forward, arms nestled down on the table.

"Tell me, Delta, what is your opinion on this?"

I looked at him in confusion, unsure of what to say. "I do not understand the query." I replied.

"The German defeat, surrender, and eventual rise into a global power in the second war that followed the first…what is your opinion?" she asked.

I furled my brows, still unsure of the answer. I did not know what was being asked of me, even as my mind processed the question a thousand times.

"Well…ma'am…" I began, "the defeat in itself wasn't…bad. It was the humiliating punishments given by the Allies that led to a second war."

Frustrated breaths followed, before the same woman replied, "place yourself in German shoes at the time."

Still unsure, I answered, "If I were a German, I would be angry."

The woman, satisfied with his answer, leaned forwards once again. "Go on." She said.

I internally shrugged, unsure of where this was going. "They were cast down. Humiliated. As a German, I would want to get back at them."

The lecturers looked at each other, taking in the answer, mired in the innocence of the child's voice.

"Delta," the woman said, "report to Bay D24 for your next orders."

 **April, 2134**

"Subject Delta-04, are you afraid?"

The teen looked up at me, his eyes filled with an unsure look. From the way his hands clenched and unclenched, upper muscles tensed, and a slight fidgeting of his feet…he was. As an A.I., I took what I could from the physical actions that I could see from him, logging all that his body language could tell me.

"Do not be afraid." I said, gliding softly to his right side.

"Is this a mission?" He asked, triggering an emotion deep within the deep recesses of my capacitors. A teenager by human standards, and yet oddly so innocent still.

"Yes." I answered.

The child slowly nodded, turning his gaze away from my form, taking to staring at the blank white heading of the operations room.

"Then…there is no reason to be afraid." He said, "What are my mission parameters?" He asked.

"Live."


	6. The Origins of the Sword

**March, 2129**

It all seemed…detached. _He_ seemed detached.

From the small confines of his residence, situated at the very corner of the prefab taken from the _Prometheus,_ in what, to his opinion, was a very unassuming location for an individual like him, he watched. He watched as children, of which there were not that many of, play in the massive park in the middle of the prefabricated buildings that dotted _Century_ , the city.

Their city.

"Mr. Roberts," he heard, twirling around from his place by the window, prompting the automatic sensors to engage the blinds, blocking the natural light from outside. One by one, ceiling lights turned on, illuminating his room in its warm, yellow light. The vid screen lit up, which, at this point, were simply a collection of news reports from the colonial administration and the city council, as well as the mining and manufacturing divisions that dotted the planet, which were tasked with collecting and using resources respectively.

Should one look past the borders of _Century,_ they would find houses and buildings, all custom built; a stark contrast to the utilitarian and uniform look of the prefabricated units that took up the majority of the city center.

He paid the vid screen no heed, despite the news turning on to what had been a hot topic for the past several years. The Crying Mothers.

Indeed, despite all that they had achieved, every single one of the colonists on _Century_ felt a little cheated. When _Prometheus_ had left the confines of the little blue planet they called home, they ventured out with thirty thousand souls; a quarter of which were children and pre-teens, while the majority were able bodied adults. It was more than anyone could have hoped for, given that the Manswell Expedition, as it was officially known, was a private expedition conducted by the Manswell Company in 2075.

However, unknown to most, they did not…officially depart with _just_ thirty thousand humans.

Husbands and wives, who were in the first few months of their pregnancy, were offered suitable compensation apart from being paid thousands to take part in the expedition. They were offered…a chance.

A chance to be with their unborn children.

Five-thousand frozen embryos departed alongside their sleeping parents, with the rest of the individuals aboard unknowing of the deception.

And indeed, what happened afterwards soon had people up in arms over the Manswell Company representatives who had taken part in the journey.

For of the five-thousand children, a thousand were lost. Forever.

Biting back an exhausted sigh, Roberts, or Joe as he was called, turned his attention towards his only companion. It was a console, standing half his height with the familiar red led lights adorning its surface in horizontal lines. It was the, perhaps, only comforting remembrance he had of the world he once knew.

Most of the original crew of the _Prometheus_ had died; advanced age had caught up to many individuals on _Century,_ not just the crew, but the original colonists as well. Despite the…medical technologies they had 'advanced' in, it took quite a bit of time to implement.

Time, unfortunately, that many did not have.

And now, of those who still remembered, he, along with a few others, remained.

"OSWALD?" Roberts intoned, waiting for the monotonous response from the intelligence that had survived for this long.

"A friend would like to talk to you." He replied.

Roberts gave a sigh once more, born out of a frustration for where his life had led. He had never intended to a prophet, no, mediator between two worlds. Never wished to be.

"Did he say when?"

There was no response at first, only the soft humming of OSWALD's station, before the lights dimmed.

"Soon, was his reply."

He nodded curtly, abandoning his attempt of sitting down, making his way instead to the exit of his room. The darkened hallway that greeted him was all too familiar, embedding within him a sense of security, as he walked past the many doors to many other rooms, housing, without a doubt, his 'minders.' Paying no attention to the thought, he quickly made his way towards the elevator, which he took rapidly to the very bottom of the prefab…and well below.

He was familiar with the area; familiar with whatever nook and cranny there was in the great expanse that the city occupied.

How could he not? This was where Humanity made its first landing.

The ride to the bottom was a rapid, continuous venture; he did not stop at any floor, as was custom with an elevator going deep down into the depths of _Century,_ and for this he paid a small thanks. No one would question on him on why he was going down _again,_ and no one would be there to monitor his conversation.

It was freeing.

The doors of the elevator soon opened, and quickly he made his way forwards. Past the human computers and constructions, and deeper, ever deeper, into the cavernous approach he had found himself in. Human aesthetics soon gave way to sleek designs of grey and dull silver, with architecture and images not of human origin began to filter in to his field of view.

And slowly, every slowly as he walked with apprehensive steps, he had arrived at the center.

It was a large, circular room, with metals of unknown mixtures and origin adorning every surface from top to bottom. Pillars higher than any he had ever seen supported the top, no doubt being needed more than ever due to the massive quantities of human prefabs on the surface. It amused him, amused him indeed to no end, as to how anyone could not sense the energies emanating of this place of _power._

"10?" Roberts spoke out, his voice echoing in the vast emptiness that was before him.

A soft whirring began, before, at the center of this approach, a hole emerged. From it, an orb like machine floated, it's central 'eye' turning its focus towards him.

" _Reclaimer!"_ It said in joyous remark, floating closely to him. _"It has been too long!"_

Roberts snorted, crossing his arms over his chest, his white hair flowing ever so smoothly amidst the slight breeze that came in from the hole.

"It's been a week since we last talked, 10."

Unperturbed, the construct chuckled, circling his standing body like a doctor to a patient.

" _Indeed! But there are matters we must discuss."_

"There are 'matters' we need to discuss every time we meet." Roberts replied. "What is it this time?"

" _Why, the future of course!"_ It pronounced.

Roberts shook his head, closing his eyes in exasperation.

" _You, Reclaimer, and your kind on this Shield World, have advanced so much!"_

"I wouldn't say being locked on a planet for the foreseeable future as 'advanced.'"

" _And still, Reclaimer, you have managed to do what my makers could not."_

A quirked eyebrow was raised, before Roberts took a seat on a pedestal that had arisen from the ground.

"And what would that be?"

" _Prepare."_

He snorted, shaking his head. "We aren't preparing for _anything._ Not a war; _humanity_ , my _humanity,_ simply want to be _live._ " He said, angrily.

" _And yet you make machines of war."_

"THOSE CHILDREN ARE NOT MACHINES!"

Silence followed his pronouncement; with neither construct not flesh knowing what to say next. Despite the unperturbed reaction from 10, anger swiftly coursed through Roberts' flesh.

" _And yet they are for war."_ 10 finally replied, floating in front of Roberts. _"War is coming."_

With gritted teeth, Roberts meant to shoo the construct away, standing up, frustrated at the turn of events. "I wish to spare my people the trouble. If we have to stay here on your construct, then so be it."

" _Perhaps, then, an alternative."_

Roberts turned around to face the machine, a speculative gaze on his face. "What would you suggest?"

10 floated away, and in his place a hologram appeared. Specifications on weapons systems and ships illuminated his gaze, with more than a few panels of martial information coming to fruition.

" _Despite your suggestions, Reclaimer, your kind will continue to do what it was meant to do. Evolve. The Mantle dictates it so."_ Images of ship plans, the _Century_ shipyard, and defensive platforms dotting the city came into view. A thousand other information popped up.

"What the illustrious UNSC does is not my concern. We agreed to minding our own damn business." Roberts replied angrily, taking the images in with great concern.

" _And yet, the children of both your peoples co-exist, unknowing of the truth. They do not know of me, nor do they know of them. They simply know existence."_

Roberts could nothing else but angrily stare at the Monitor, for it was true. Generations born and unborn would not know of the tenuous pact the UNSC had made with the Manswell Colonists. They would never know of a world free from the experiences of the UNSC, their wretched war, and their survival from genocide. They may be human…but they weren't _his_ humanity.

And so, the future would be what the UNSC dictated it to be so. Already they had eradicated form the shadows any form of apprehensive governing done by the Manswell Colonists. The old generation had died, leaving behind a malleable group of individuals ready to be indoctrinated by UNSC doctrine. Colonial Administration, once run by the Manswell loyalists, had slowly been taken over by forces sympathetic to UNSC doctrine. Though they may never understand the reasoning behind the doctrines they believed in, for it was agreed that the UNSC would embed itself to the larger group of colonists, the power of a paranoid humanity was too much.

Year after year, more and more focus had been given to martial prowess. The colonial guard, once a lowly group of only two thousand, had morphed into an organization known as the _Colonial Armed Forces,_ which now numbered in eight thousand young souls. The hillsides surround _Century,_ once so full of lush life, now played host to installations for shipyards, training grounds, as well as defensive platforms that stood higher than even most of the custom built skyscrapers.

It would not surprise Roberts, if in time, those loyal to UNSC beliefs lay waste to Earth in a war of conquest masqueraded into a war of unification.

And in the end, that was what the UNSC wanted. To unite humanity under their cause.

"Then, why me?" Roberts finally asked, "you want us to prepare for war, despite our desire to avoid it, shouldn't you talk to Hood, perhaps? You all come from the same hellhole anyway."

There was a brief flash of red that emanated from the Monitor's eye, and for a moment, Roberts thought himself dead. There could be no telling what this construct was capable of; it did have a synthetic planet under its control, after all.

" _As much as I would like to, you and I both know that they would lead your kind down a dark path."_

Internally, Roberts agreed. There was too much aggressiveness there. Too many corners cut, too many decisions done for the common good, while sacrificing too many. Too much.

And already, he could feel the weight on his shoulders.

" _There must be a better way; a benevolent hand to guide your kind down a path that would make you and yours more capable of wielding the Mantle like you once were seen capable of."_

"What would you have me do?" Roberts asked, reclaiming his seat, watching as the holographic projections in front of him disappeared, leaving him to look at the Monitor.

" _Whether you like it or not, Reclaimer, you are who these people look up to, for it is you who I have decided to impart my knowledge of my makers, and their adversaries in this universe, to. You must be that hand."_

With conflicting emotions welling up within him, Roberts closed his eyes in thought. He swore to himself to never again be at a position of power, and yet here he was, with power being offered in his face.

" _In order for your kind to survive, they must unite. Not through war; but from understanding. You will do what my makers could not; victory."_

He gripped at the edges of his clothes, subtly trying to dissuade himself from the ideas that had begun forming in his head.

" _My makers lost because they were but few of them remaining. Your kind has billions. You are their shepherd through the dark; you are the hand. You must be that hand."_

Finally, he opened his eyes, a spark of resolve within them.

"This doesn't answer how you want a quick solution to present itself. We can't advance that fast, 10."

" _You need not to. I am not asking you to make rapid changes or advances. I will give it to you. But allow your kind to taste growth by themselves."_

"Then, again, what would you have me do? In case you haven't noticed, I am aging. I am _dying._ "

" _Then lead those who wish to be led; leave behind a legacy that shall uphold the Mantle, and protect you people. Fight the battles so that many of your kind does not. Guide Humanity, and Humanity will do what it does best."_

Roberts sighed, frustrated. He was ready to agree, ready for it all. But he had one question.

"And my son?"

" _He shall be what you could not."_


	7. The Truth for All

_**March, 2138  
14 Miles from Century City  
Castle Mall**_

The cavernous facility was alight with activity, as crewmen adorned in various articles of clothing ran about. It was chaotic, but at the same time a sight for relief for the lone man standing within a lonely office, overlooking the operation. Around him, various computers and devices beeped and flashed, bathing the small room in a cacophony of colors and lights, dimming the strength of the sources of light from outside.

But from where he stood, his vision augmented by his focus and thoughts, he could see very clearly the occurrences happening outside his dwelling.

He turned around, striding towards his seat; an unassuming leather chair, the light sources dimming with every step he took. Live video feeds were shut off, status updates remaining in place of what there once were. The moment he took his seat, the holographic projector form in front of his desk lit up, and the visage of a hidden man appeared before him.

"TIM?" He questioned, finding for himself a comfortable position on his seat. "Fancy seeing you here."

The image, whose head was hidden, crossed its legs, an aura of focused boredom emanating from it despite the lack of actual physical presence.

"Reyes. How are you?"

Reyes shook his head, a smile forming on his lips. "Let's dispense with the pleasantries uncle. What do you have for me today?"

There was a brief chuckle from the other end of the line, before, in a serious tone, the hologram stood up, showing his face to the only person within the room, saying, "I just wanted to ask how everything is going."

Reyes shrugged, pushing a pile of papers on his desk to the side. "We have successfully embedded four agents to the 'NORMANDY' project. It's as we predicted; the UNSC pencil pushers are building a warship."

There was a snort from the hologram, before the man before him crossed his arms over his chest.

"We both know that they would build one whether we like it or not. It's all beneficial to humanity. You cannot blame the hammer, when the person wielding it is at fault."

Reyes raised an eyebrow, folding his own arms over his chest. "Father would have said the same thing."

"Sergeant Reyes and I go a long way back." The man declared with a smirk, "He always was a firm believer in the same virtues that I now believe in."

"I gathered," Reyes replied, "From trying to hold back the UNSC to letting them do what they want. Not your usual M.O. uncle."

"We can't stop them; their opinions on the matter are quite famous. What we can do, for now, is guide them accordingly in how they use these weapons of war."

Reyes nodded, "From what our agents have gathered thus far, they're looking to use the Normandy to travel to Earth. Establish ties."

The hologram nodded, "Acceptable. Probabilities of such a scenario turning violent?"

"Slim to none. Your voice speaks in the committee; we didn't even have to plant agents. Your opinions are as popular as the UNSC's. Not everyone's receptive of a violent unification with Earth as we first thought."

The hologram nodded once more, uncrossing its arms. "How about our own ship?"

Reyes stood from his seat, walking to a computer in the far corner. He fiddled with its controls for a moment, before another hologram popped up beside his 'uncle.'

"The _Serano_ ; fastest ship alive. We stole what we could from the _Infinity's_ data logs. Bar none, our project is faster than the _Normandy_. If they ever get around to repairing the _Infinity_ however; that's another deal entirely."

"They'll never finish those repairs in the near future," the hologram declared, "it would raise far too much suspicions on how they were able to build a ship that big with a crew requirement of that many. No; we can expect the _Normandy_ to be the tip of the spear."

Reyes nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.

"We must be first to this… _'Reach'_ before ONI gets there."

Reyes grimaced, "It still astounds me that Colonial Administration ever agreed to the CDF's proposal to have an intelligence agency in the first place. No one bar a few pencil pushers are asking why we need that in the first place."

"Why wouldn't they?" the hologram countered, "Everyone here has it in their heads that we're more advanced than the people on Earth. And you and I both know how popular an opinion it is that _we_ should be the one leading humanity now."

Reyes shook his head, "Yet the peaceful option is popular, no thanks to you."

"Not just me." The hologram answered, shaking its head, "It's _us_ that our race should be thanking. You, me, the agents…all of us. _Cerberus."_

Reyes, without hesitation or apprehension, nodded solemnly.

 _ **March, 2138  
Century City**_

To say that he was nervous was an understatement; Michael Malkovich stood in his single bedroom apartment, hands sweating from the heat emanating from outside. His window had long since been covered, darkening much of the room's interior; the sun's heat, however, found itself in more receptive arms, as Michael all but sweat from the nerves wrecking his body.

But he did not show any outward appearance of being so, apart from the sweat boiling down his fingertips.

He was waiting. Waiting for the doorbell to ring, as he crossed and uncrossed his arms above his chest. Pent up energies and emotions wracked his entire being, as he waited with baited breath for what was going to perhaps be a meeting with his purported future. It was a decision not to be taken lightly; but he was scared of what saying no might bring into his life.

He was quite young; his parents, although knowing him to be a person prone to flights of fancy, would never have envisioned him as being capable of this. It was…treasonous, he supposed, but to turn a blind eye to the going-ons of the colony was to be foolish.

Which was why, through the auspices of an anonymous e-mail, he found himself waiting for this supposed group's representative.

It was half past noon when his doorbell rang. He hurriedly walked across his living room, opening the door with intrepid hesitation, unsure of what he was getting himself into. The site that greeted him was to be expected, if a bit unorthodox in how suspicious the woman in front him looked. She was dressed impeccably; indeed, it was a little sultry if he would admit it to anyone else. She wore a skin tight dress, something from the store _Ally's_ down the street from where his apartment was, probably. Pleasantries and greetings were exchanged, whereupon Michael invited the woman in (who introduced herself as Alice).

She sauntered into his living room as if she owned the place, taking a look around the small, yet lavish apartment. Real Estate was dirt cheap after all, leading the colonist's to have more money to spend on interior designing.

The suitcase she had beside her was bulky; but from the way she carried it, it seemed as if there was little strength needed to lift the thing.

"Mr. Malkovich." She began, "Thank you for…responding as soon as you were able."

Michael gave a nervous smile, wiping his hands gently on his pants, before sitting down from across the woman who had made herself comfortable in the space on his couch.

"Tell me…why should we accept you?" She asked.

Michael drew back a long breath, before exhaling as slowly as he could.

" _To serve as a steward for peace amongst mankind."_ He quoted, referring to the contents of the anonymous e-mail he had received.

The woman smiled, a wide smile reaching out from ear to ear, as she leaned forwards.

"Indeed. And tell me, what do you know of mankind here; on _Century?_ "

Michael shrugged; was that even a question? Everyone knew what they were, where they had come from, and their origins. It was basic info drilled into everyone from pre-schools up to the mandatory military school.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"History." She clarified, the smile never leaving her face.

Michael furrowed his eyebrows, believing that the question was a trick of some sort. Nonetheless, with confidence, he answered her.

"2089; we made landfall on _Century._ The original captain of the _Prometheus_ died during a freak meteor shower, prompting the crew to make an emergency landing here. Seeing that it was a viable planet for habitation," he trailed off.

"We landed and made it our home." Alice finished for him. Her smile had long since disappeared, as she pushed herself back into his couch. "Continue." She egged on.

"Well, afterwards, we dropped the prefabs off into the place, and started small mining operations on Mt. Roberts; named after the late captain. We offloaded the colonists in batches, and in about five months time, we landed the _Prometheus,_ scuttled parts of it for needed materials, and continued the life cycle of the frozen embryos we had in 2097."

"What do you know of the _Tragedy?"_

"The _Tragedy_ happened around the same time the embryos were incubated. Hundreds died, they say."

The woman nodded. "Go on."

Taking a deep breath, Michael continued, "Well, afterwards, scientists known as Tobias Shaw and Wallace Fujikawa formulated the theory on slipspace travel in 2102, though we never really got around to building a working drive until 2114. They were dead by then, but the excitement at the prospect of being able to get back to Earth was a thrilling idea."

"Indeed; I remember my mother raving about it." Alice said, crossing her legs. "And what do you know about Lord Hood, Dr. Maria Flemming, and John Everett?"

"Lord Hood's some British noble, I think; he joined the Manswell Expedition as his last 'oorah' as he says. Being from a military background, he was an advisor for the CDF. Nowadays, due to old age, and I'm still wondering how he's lived for this long by the way, he's simply a technical consultant for the CDF."

"Yes, his age is a wonderful mystery I would like to unravel myself. I only hope I look as good as him at his age." Alice declared, trailing off into a British accent.

Michael chuckled a little bit, feeling at ease, sinking into his seat with arms crossed over his chest.

"Dr. Flemming and Lord Hood are all mysteries as to why they're still alive and kicking." He said, "Dr. Flemming I don't know about. All I know is she works for the Administration's science wing; she served as an advisor in growing the embryos in the early days. Mr. Everett served as the CDF director up until 2129, when he died."

Alice smiled once more, "Your grasp on history seems impeccable." She said, before grabbing her suitcase and plopping it unto the table. She opened it, casually pulling out several pieces of paper, of which Michael had taken an interest in.

"Now, you are Michael Malkovich, son of Julia and Winston Malkovich. Born on December 17th, Earth Standard Time, year 2110. Correct?"

Michael's worry suddenly welled in his chest; it was unnerving how she knew this. "Yes," he answered nonetheless.

Seemingly sensing his worry, Alice smiled reassuringly at him. "Don't worry; everything I have on you is public knowledge on Colonial servers and public health records."

He nodded.

"You were top of your class, before you were picked out by the CDF for the Aerospace Program. You have the top marks, unbeaten as of today, flying rescue operations over Zone 3 on Mt. Roberts in the mining collapse of 2134."

Michael curtly nodded, before asking, "Are you ONI?"

She smiled.

"I'm something more."

Proceeding on with her line of questioning, it was a brief recounting of his service history with the CDF. His participation in various rescue operations and 'quelling' exercises on the outskirts of _Century_ against the local _Preta_ population, which had annoyed many CDF commanders with their often times debilitating attacks upon the city.

When nothing more was asked and said, Alice leaned back once more into her seat, a serious look upon her face.

"Why did you leave?" She asked.

Michael was unsure of how to answer; everything so far had told him that was ONI, despite her claims of not being an agent of the organization, and answering in a manner that C.A. did not like was worrying. They haven't done _anything_ to the people that had different views..but still. Best keep his nose clean.

"I fulfilled my duty. I had already completed my mandatory service." He simply stated.

"Come now Michael," Alice responded, smirking, "Everything up until 2135, the year you left, pointed towards you joining the force for life. What changed?"

He did not, could not, oblige her with an answer. He looked down to the floor instead, staying silent.

"I know, Michael." She stated, prompting him to look at her.

"What do you know?" He questioned.

"I know why you left; Colonial Administration was becoming too fascist for your tastes. They had reneged on their promise of abolishing mandatory service for the CDF, relaxing regulations against monopolies and anti-trust laws, as well as focusing too much on building up the CDF."

He could do little else but stare at her intently, readying himself for anything.

"You don't like Governor Jackson, or his policies. You support, however, several Administrators lobbying for more colonial development; not military. Furthermore, you are very much against all this talk of 'leading' humanity."

"That's because I'm cautious of how pro-war it all seems." He said.

"Indeed. But all of this is true, correct?" she asked.

Hesitantly, he gave a nod.

"Excellent." Alice declared, smiling widely. "Then we can begin."

Suddenly, without warning, he felt hands push him down by the shoulder. He struggled, but there was more than one pair at this point. His attempts at screaming for help were drowned out by a piece of cloth pushed into his mouth, as men, burly and large, surrounded him.

Alice, her smile long since gone, had stood up, taking a small, cylindrical device out from her suitcase, which was attached to a mount of sorts. She walked up to him, wrapping the leather straps of the device around his neck and jaw, further preventing him from making a sound. The cylinder was placed in front of his eye, the bottom end of turning on with a blue light.

"Take a deep breath, Michael."

Without warning, his head exploded, as his body stiffened, leaving him even more vulnerable to those around him. They had removed their hands away, confident in the stiffened man shaking violently in front of them.

They had seen this far too many times, it seemed.

He continued to shake, his eyes wide open.

And just like that, his mind unravelled. The truth, was for him to see.

When the device had stopped whirring, and the man before them had stopped shaking, the collective huddled around Michael's form, pulling him up into a sitting position.


	8. March of 2138

_**March, 2138  
Unknown  
Unknown**_

All that he knew, all that he could perceive, were the sounds of the engine's low growl. They were moving along quickly, from what he gathered, and the tumultuous turbulence due to the uneven ground they were moving along helped keep him awake. In another time, blindfolded with his senses dulled in the back of a truck would have worried him; would have made him afraid and whatnot.

But today was not such a day; understanding had long since dawned on him, as he gently played with his thumbs while waiting patiently for them to come to a stop. On either side of him, he was not doubtful of the presence of two heavily armed guards; his _escorts_ as it were. They were conversing rather loudly, and freely, but left behind talks on anything specific or, indeed, about their jobs.

He welcomed it. In a way, it reminded him eerily of his time with the CDF. Whether or not these men were of the same blood as him, serving for the greater good, was irrelevant. He was allowed to keep a sidearm; a device that had moot uses considering his lack of sight.

They stayed like this for much longer than he would have anticipated, with the only change in their current journey being the mutation of their rough road into smooth one. They ventured along the well-constructed path for a few minutes, before, without so much as a jolt, their vehicle stopped. His blind fold, tied tightly unto his head, was quickly removed by his two _escorts,_ who were ever so kind and warm, as they smiled brightly at him.

Finally, as they ventured out of the truck, past the windows that showed the outside world and well past the rear exit, he took in a breath of fresh air.

Or, as fresh as air could be in what seemed to be a facility underground.

He could see, as far as his eyes could, a cavernous facility before him. Hundreds of machines of varying purpose lay before him, as hundreds of people moved to and fro. It was a busy day, it seemed, as he took in the view, chuckling lightly at the yellow-inspired imagery that assaulted his senses.

A synthetic voice echoed in the distance, doling out general announcements amidst the vast congregation of the individuals present around the facility. It was all well-lit, with enough space for proper positioning of the many vehicles and machinery present.

In the middle of it all, however, was a monument or statue of some sort.

A hexagon, it's pointed tips lying on top and below it, stood at the center; it was all black, with yellow lines of unknown material standing beside the two sides of the construct. It was a logo, and a logo he had now grown familiar with.

It was the logo of _Cerberus._

All too quickly, he was being egged forward by his escorts, who had long since adopted looks of seriousness as they walked beside him, guiding him to wherever he needed to be. They moved forwards and upwards, past the staircases and elevators that had made his mind confused at the many movements they had taken, and well into well-lit corridors that were lined with many doors; all, perhaps, leading into the great unknown.

Throughout their journey, his companions remained silent. But from where he walked in the middle of them, he could feel an excitable energy emanating from the two. Without question, he was being led to _something,_ and not _someone._ He did know if to worry was the best emotion to feel at the moment, but nonetheless, he did.

Soon, they had ended their labor, stopping inside an empty room, with a window covering a majority of the wall opposite of the door they stepped through. He could not see anything beyond it, nor could he make out any visage of what was on the other side, for the other side was, indeed, dark.

His two escorts grunted a message to him, telling him so to not leave this room. For all his apprehension about being stuck in a mysterious room, he complied, clasping his hands together behind his back. He was left in deafening silence, as an announcement of sorts echoed through the speakers in the room.

"Mr. Malkovich." a synthetic voice resounded.

With a curious eyebrow raised, Michael crossed his arms over his chest.

"That's me." He replied.

"We're glad you could make it."

He shrugged; they had cameras in here no doubt. He would not vocalize his answer.

"We're also glad that you joined us." Whoever it was said after a few moments of silence. "It's best, perhaps, to bring you up to speed."

Still not letting his brow go down, he simply uncrossed his arms, walking over to the window. "What do you have for me then?"

"Flight Lieutenant; you were chosen for your exemplary service to the CDF during your mandatory service period. You've excelled in many fields of your service. Firearms training, flight simulations and actual flight ops, as well as an innate ability to lead individuals."

He shrugged; he knew they were very knowledgeable on, perhaps, everyone on the planet.

"Thus, we've chosen you for a specific project that, in a few months' time, you shall be well versed in."

"What is it?"

"Mr. Malkovich," the voice said, and for a moment, Michael could hear the smirk in its voice, "I would like to introduce the _Serano_ to you."

On the other side of the window, ceiling lights suddenly switched on. One by one, they lit the monstrously huge _hangar,_ for that was what it was, revealing from tale to nose, a ship he had never thought he would see in his lifetime.

Various lights adorned what he would call the 'wings' of it, with four engines that flitted out externally from the ends of it. In white, against a blended mesh of Black and Yellow coloring, the words _Serano_ were clearly written.

He could feel, crawling up his chest, a sense of excitement.

 _ **March, 2138  
Century City  
ONI Facility**_

"He's who we want attached to this op?"

There was a general round of grunts from the three individuals she was with. It made her a tad bit annoyed by the lack of any further elaboration on their part, but perhaps it was for the best; the less agents spoke, the less mistakes they made.

She gripped, very lightly as it were so, the dossier they had on the Spartan they had before them. Noble-D24, a Spartan as he was colloquially called. From where she stood, she could see on the other side of the one-way mirror, as the boy, 16 years old as his file said, lay unmoving on the seat he was on. His hands and feet strapped down by metal bindings, he sat upon it unblinkingly. A cylindrical device was hooked up on his end, with the end of the machine glowing with a blue light.

He did not shudder, nor make any violent thrashings, as was custom with most 'revelations' that he had taken part in.

"Noble-D24," one of her compatriots said, "real name is Samuel Roberts."

"As in-"

"Son of _the_ Roberts, yes."

She shrugged; she had seen worse things than a simple lineage. "I suppose you know this part…how?"

"Classified." The voice replied, "that's all I'm at liberty to say to you, Agent 'West.' Everything redacted on his file is redacted for a purpose."

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "What's the point of bringing me in then."

"ONI thanks you for your service."

She huffed in annoyance, peeking down unto the file in her hands.

 _Samuel Roberts,_ she repeated in her head. What she could read was very little, for there were many more covered up in black ink. It was a perplexing mystery, one justified it seemed, considering that the N-program was all veiled in absolute secrecy. No one outside of Section Three knew what the N-program was all about, which brought more mystery to her situation, as she was a Section One agent now tasked with taking care of a Section Three project.

Height? A little under seven feet.

Weight? Stones upon stones.

He was a perplexing story, she knew, one that even the most elusive of individuals would have a hard time matching up to this anomaly.

"Damn; there anything on this guy that's _not_ classified?" she asked.

"None."

She scratched her head. "Alright, then tell me why exactly he's being given the dose? He isn't ONI." She remarked.

There was silence for a few minutes, before the same voice replied in kind. "He is…a special case. You know your parameters."

She nodded slowly, understanding the concept of a need to know basis when she sees one.

"Does his dad know?" she asked.

"He was the one to endorse his embryo to us."

She nodded once more, letting her shoulders sag a little bit. She watched as the room dimmed, and she was left with seeing very little inside of the room.

A green light illuminated her view, as she turned her head to look at the overhead LED light on top of the door leading into the room. That was her prompt, as she moved forwards, dossier in hand, pushing aside her only obstacle heading into where Samuel was.

As soon as she entered, the room was brightly illuminated once more, and where once a prone man was sitting, a heavily armored man now stood. His face was obscured by the helmet he had on, as he followed her every movement with a slight adjustment of his head.

"D24," she began, "I'll be your handler for today. How's the head?" She asked, a bit cheerfully.

"Fine, ma'am." Was his simple reply. There was something disconcerting about the way he looked at her; she did not know if it was because of her face being reflected back at her by the golden visor of his helm, or because he simply stood there, no motion occurring apart from the slight movement of his head.

"I'd like to make sure that the procedure worked, if you don't mind?" She asked, taking a seat in front of him.

With a grunt and a nod, 'West' began.

"Tell me everything you now know, versus to what you had been led to believe before today." She said, taking a pen and notepad from underneath the dossier in her hand.

There was a hesitant deep breath for a fleeting moment, before Samuel began.

"We landed here, 2089, after discovering this planet due to an emergency thaw of the _Prometheus_ crew during a freak meteor shower."

"And the truth?" She asked.

"The truth was that a UNSC ship," he drawled, as if the words were unfamiliar in his mouth, "had made an emergency slipspace jump and accidentally caused mechanical failures on the _Prometheus._ Upon landfall, we made contact with the _UNSC Infinity,_ where the surviving crew of the _Prometheus_ and those of the UNSC signed an agreement to keep their existence secret."

"Go on."

"As soon as colonization began, the _Infinity_ was hidden away underneath Mt. Roberts, with the mining collapse of in 2134 done as a way to secure the hangar's entrance. The UNSC dissolved, with members embedding themselves into the CDF and the C.A. in various positions alongside those from the Manswell Expedition."

'West' nodded, writing something on her notepad.

"When we first arrived here, Joe Roberts met with 10 Abhorrent Solution; an artificial intelligence from an ancient race known to the UNSC as the 'Forerunners.' It was agreed, between the AI, the UNSC, and the _Prometheus_ crew alive at the time, that to avoid panic, they would not tell the majority of the populace about the truth of this planet, _Century._ "

"And what is it with _Century?"_

" _Century_ is a Forerunner made world, with its own sun. The entire system is hidden both psychologically and artificially; it is masked in its entirety from long range sensors, hence why this system was not discovered by Earth based satellites. Psychologically…individuals on this rock are mentally subdued for asking pertinent questions by a piece of technology known as the _Culler,_ a device of Forerunner make utilizing an unknown form of technology that is different from Forerunner designs. The unknown form of technology directly deals with an individual's mental capacity, allowing the device to subtly subdue an individual from being able to rise to suspicion."

"Why was this done?" She asked.

"Because the _Prometheus_ never made it to its destination, and would arouse suspicion as to why they had colonized a planet far away from its target system."

"Good. Do you understand, however, why this needed to be done?" she asked, not looking up at him, but awaiting for his answer instead.

"Yes."

Seeing as she would get no more elaboration on his part, 'West' urged him to continue.

"Through extensive mining and engineering, we've constructed _Century._ Relatively small, but highly developed, this city is defended by the Colonial Defense Forces, which is under the Colonial Administration. Both hold jurisdiction over the operations of ONI, and both operate upon the general goal of reuniting with Earth."

* * *

"I am Captain Munroe."

"Sir!"

Michael quickly snapped to attention, giving off the finest salute he could muster. All around him, the collective group comprised of the _Serano's_ projected crew saluted with him, shouting, at the same time as him, a solid _sir_ as they stood to attention.

The Captain returned the salute, and as one, they all dropped it. He smiled at them all reassuringly, clasping his hands behind his back.

"I'll be the first to say – you all look fantastic!"

There was murmur and a few chuckles in reply to the pronouncement, and even Michael could not help but smile. Behind the Captain, the visage of the _Serano_ could be seen. Although not quite finished in its construction yet, it had long since been declared that sooner rather than later, it would be space worthy.

"I'll admit, we've all experienced the same, suspicious recruitment practices that _Cerberus_ likes to employ." The Captain joked, earning a few more chuckles from the gathered crew. "They like to send mysterious e-mails, before they knock on our doors, and force us to see the truth with some, if I dare say so myself, freaky science."

At this point, the chuckled had died out, with some adopting looks of apprehensiveness; shuffling their weight on the balls of their feet.

"I know that you're all suspicious still. Cautious, even. And I'd like to say that I understand." The Captain said, "We're all here for one reason or another. Some feel mad about being lied to by the C.A., some feel threatened because of them tampering with our heads. Some just want to protect humanity. I know."

* * *

"So this _Cerberus-_ "

"Is a threat, yes. They've stolen plans on the _Infinity_ a few years back. We'd like you to recover it, apart from your secondary objectives."

"Which are?" Samuel asked.

"Our objectives are simple; to ensure that peace settles within our race. AND, to make sure that external threats cannot stop us."

Murmurs broke out; what, indeed, external threats did he speak of.

"Our friend, Abhorrent Solution, has been working closely with us for the past few years."

The eyeball looking AI floated beside the Captain as he spoke of him, a slight whirring echoing in the room.

"And he shall tell you about our enemy, and the enemy of his makers."

"Do we know where they hide?" Samuel asked.

"Yes."

A brief silence followed.

"When do we begin?"

"-And so, these Reapers are a threat. Where my makers failed, they had hoped you would succeed in."

Nods of agreement followed, and within himself, Michael felt a steely resolve settle in his chest.

But whatever was to follow, was broken in the cacophony of broken steal and explosions, as a thundering echo rocked _Cerberus_ to its core.

* * *

 _ **CODEX**_

 _ **The History of Century**_

 _ **2553 – The UNSC Infinity, rendered incapable of travel and operations, initiates a Slipspace Bomb during a renewed Covenant invasion of Earth. The bomb, a prototype Forerunner slipspace drive, encompasses the entire visage of the Infinity, theoretically sending it to parts unknown. The shockwave resulting from the triggering of the bomb, creates an EMP pulse that renders the surrounding ships, both UNSC and Covenant, tactically inert or destroyed.**_

 _ **2089 – The MEV Prometheus, utilized by the Manswell Company as part of the Manswell Expedition launched in 2075, commences emergency thawing of its crew due to the appearance of the Infinity and its debris. The Infinity crash lands on the planet below, which OSWALD remarks as suspicious due to not being found years before by Earth sensors.**_

 _ **2089 – Joe Roberts makes landfall with a security team from the Prometheus, where they discover the Infinity. Roberts makes contact with 10 Abhorrent Solution, a Forerunner AI, beneath a cavernous facility housing a Forerunner facility.**_

 _ **2089 – The remnants of the UNSC and the crew of the Prometheus sign the Writ of Secrecy, which silences the men and women of both sides into secrecy regarding the UNSC. The UNSC are absorbed into the Prometheus, with both sides creating doctored crew manifests to justify the existence of the UNSC personnel.**_

 _ **2090 – 10 Abhorrent Solution reveals the existence of the Culler, a massive Forerunner device running the entire length of the planet beneath the mantle. It is revealed to officials that the planet they stood upon was a former Forerunner shield world, with the Culler's purpose being the veiling of the entire system from sensors both long range and short range. The Culler is capable of limited mental manipulation, a characteristic it takes from an enemy the Forerunners were fighting in this galaxy. Abhorrent Solution does not fully divulge all of the details regarding this enemy, but wishes to prepare humanity for war.**_

 _ **2092- After much urging from UNSC supported Administrators, the Colonial Administration formally creates the Colonial Defense Force.**_

 _ **2093 – Lobbying from UNSC supported Administrators leads to the enactment of mandatory CDF service, after continuous Preta attacks hamper colonial development.**_

 _ **2094 – Mining operations commence.**_

 _ **2097 – Continuation of the growth cycle from the Prometheus' payload of frozen human embryos. The 'Tragedy' occurs, where 450 embryos are presumably lost.**_

 _ **2100 - Two UNSC Scientists adopt the names Tobias Shaw and Wallace Fujikawa as part of a secret attempt by Lord Hood to immortalize the UNSC's history.**_

 _ **2102 – Slipspace is 'discovered.' Wallace Fujikawa and Tobias Shaw 'die.'**_

 _ **2105 – Aerospace Program started. Heavy mining operations lead to a surplus of raw materials, and the C.A. hastily begin preparations to create Automated Defense Platforms both in and exo-atmospheric.**_

 _ **2114 – Working Slipspace drive is constructed. C.A. immediately plans to construct a ship dubbed 'The Normandy.'**_

 _ **2115 – ONI is established.**_

 _ **2118 – ONI, headed by former UNSC ONI members, begin plans to reunite humanity – by force if necessary.**_

 _ **2120 – UNSC backed Administrators and individuals begin spreading propaganda regarding 'leading' and 'reuniting by whatever means necessary' of the human race.**_

 _ **2121 – C.A. begins to police the unknowing public at the behest of ONI; UNSC former officials are left in the dark, or begin dying out.**_

 _ **2122- Samuel Roberts' embryo life cycle is restarted.**_

 _ **2129 – Joe Roberts converses with Abhorrent Solution regarding humanity's actions, and predicts a violent turn in reunification with Earth in the future. He is talked into fighting for humanity secretly, and establishes Cerberus. He claims the moniker 'The Illusive Man.'**_

 _ **2130 – The Normandy Project officially begins.**_

 _ **2131 – Cerberus steals details regarding the Infinity. Roberts levies massive political support in the C.A. Council, preaching patience, equality and fairness when dealing with reunification. UNSC backed Administrators lose support.**_

 _ **2133 – The Serano begins construction.**_

 _ **2134 – Samuel Roberts, codename Noble-D24, receives Spartan augmentations.**_

 _ **2135 – The Mining Collapse occurs.**_

 _ **2136 – City Defense Platforms are constructed.**_

 _ **2138 – Present.**_


End file.
